


Drape Me In Your Warmth

by clarkes_murphy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, F/F, clexa au, trigger warning: there are a few scenes of violence/abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-11-16 01:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11243925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkes_murphy/pseuds/clarkes_murphy
Summary: Growing up with an abusive stepfather and an absent mother, Lexa Woods is no stranger to pain. But then she meets Clarke Griffin, and the world, once a bleak black-and-white place, is suddenly alight with patches of colour.





	1. Chapter 1

“And where the fuck do you think you're going?”

Lexa halted in the open doorway. She took a shaky breath, squaring her shoulders before turning back to find her stepfather standing at the other end of the hall, bleary-eyed and wearing his usual stain-covered white vest.

“I asked you a question.” His voice took on a slight edge as he took a few steps closer, an edge that made Lexa's skin crawl.

“I’m going out.”

His eyebrows raised a little. “Did I say you could go anywhere?”

Lexa's hands began to tremble.

“No. But I just thought—”

“You thought what? That you could sneak out and I just wouldn't notice? Do I look stupid to you?”

Before Lexa had a chance to consider her next words, they were already tumbling from her lips: “Do you really want me to answer that?”

Her stepfather's eyes bulged with rage and he strode forward, stopping with his face only millimetres away from Lexa's. His hands bunched into fists by his sides, skin stretched white across gnarled knuckles. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

He was close enough now that Lexa could smell the alcohol on his breath, and she shut her eyes as she turned her head away.

“Look at me, you little bitch,” he snarled, grabbing her jaw and forcing her eyes back to his.

“Sam, stop,” she whimpered, tears dripping down her cheeks.

He let out a mirthless laugh, violently squeezing Lexa's face before shoving her away from him. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”

Lexa bolted from the house, trying to hold in her sobs as she raced down the sidewalk and towards the city.

Fifteen minutes later and the sun was already setting by the time she reached the bar, the orange hues highlighting the bruises that had already begun to show on her tear-streaked face.

* * *

 

“Oh my god, Clarke, you are _such_ a cheater!”

“Or maybe you’re just a sore loser?”

“Nope, you definitely cheated.”

“Whatever, Jas.”

“Bellamy, you saw her do it!”

“I didn’t see anything, sorry.”

“Raven?”

“I was too busy checking out my smoking hot girlfriend.”

“Octavia?”

“I was too busy being checked out.”

“I hate you all,” Jasper grumbled, tossing a crumpled twenty-dollar bill across the snooker table.

“Nice doing business with you,” Clarke smirked, snatching up the money and waving it in the air. “Who’s up for some shots?”

The air was filled with a chorus of whoops and yays, and Clarke laughed as she turned and made her way to the bar. It was peppered with the usual kinds of people who frequented this place – rough-looking groups clad in leather, girls with tattoos and boys with multi-coloured hair. It was a place where people didn’t have to fit a certain image – everyone was just there to drink and have a good time, which was why they all liked it so much.

Clarke drummed her fingers on the sticky bar top as she waited to be served. Eyes scanning the crowd, her gaze landed on someone; someone with wild curly hair that hid half her face, who had a vulnerability about her that made Clarke want to ask if she was okay. She looked so different from the regular types of people Clarke often saw there. But before she could think about the stranger anymore, Clarke’s attention was drawn back by the bartender, and a few minutes later she was sauntering back to her friends with a tray of shots and a massive grin on her face.

“Tequila? Why, Clarke?” Bellamy sighed.

“Because I like it and it’s my money to spend on whatever I want, that’s why.”

“Technically it’s my money,” Jasper muttered.

“Stop being so mopey, dude.”

“Octavia’s right.”

“Of course you’re agreeing with her, Raven.”

“If you had a girlfriend as beautiful as mine, you’d agree with her too.”

“Speaking of girlfriends, how’re you doing on that front, Jas?”

“Yeah, we get it, I’m perpetually alone. Rub it in, why don’t you?”

“Gladly.”

Clarke shoved into the middle of the group before things could get any more heated.

“Jasper, stop being such a downer. Raven, Octavia, stop winding him up. And Bellamy, go grab Murphy from over by the jukebox so we can have some god damn drinks!”

The tension was shattered then, and the group exchanged smiles before knocking back their first round of shots. The next few hours were filled with obnoxious singing and awful dancing and raucous laughter, and after more tequila and a couple of beers, Clarke’s head was the perfect balance of fuzzy and happy.

“Who’s up for more drinks?”

“Not me,” Bellamy groaned, head slumped over on the table. “I can’t—hic—can’t move.”

“Always such a lightweight, Bell,” Octavia laughed.

“A—hic—am not! No’ a lighweighhh.”

“I think it’s time to take you home, love,” Murphy smiled, slinging one of Bellamy’s arms over his shoulder before helping him to his feet. “Have fun, guys.”

“Bye, Murph!”

“See ya.”

Clarke waved the boys off before weaving her way through the ever–growing crowd of people, slotting herself in between a lanky boy with greasy hair and a petite Asian girl with a nose ring.

“Hey there, what can I get yo—”

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

The bartender’s head shot to the right at the same time as Clarke’s, who saw a burly woman glaring down at someone, her hand clamped around their arm. Someone with curly brown hair who was much smaller than the other woman. Clarke had just recognised her as the girl she noticed earlier when the woman shoved her; the girl’s tiny body shot backwards, crashing into the wall and sending a dartboard clattering to the floor. But this didn’t seem to dissuade her from going back. If anything, she seemed to be smiling through the pain.

With a wild gleam in her eye, she stalked back over to the woman, whose eyes widened in surprise before narrowing back into angry slits.

“Look, I already told you once. Fuck off.”

Clarke saw her clenched fists, saw the way her muscles tensed and her back arched slightly as she prepared to attack the girl again. And then she was shoving through the throngs of people, until she burst through and stumbled in between the two of them.

The woman frowned a little as Clarke came to a halt and turned to look up at her.

“And who are you?”

Clarke glanced back at the girl. She was cradling her left arm, a thin trickle of blood dripping down her temple from where she’d hit the wall. Then she returned to facing the woman, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to seem braver than she felt.

“Doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is why you’re attacking someone who’s three times smaller than you and why no one is doing anything to stop you.”

This made the woman laugh. “Look, missy. This ain’t your business. Just stay out of it.”

Clarke clenched her jaw. “No.”

Clarke heard the girl behind her take in a sharp breath.

“No?”

“You heard me.”

The woman moved closer to Clarke, sneering down at her. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Clarke tensed, ready for whatever pain she was about to endure. And then…

“Clarke, what the hell’s going on?!”

She had to fight to hide the sigh of relief that bloomed in her lungs as Octavia and Raven burst through the crowd, Jasper following in their wake with one of the security guards in tow. After a brief explanation and a hectic attempt to drag the angry woman out of the bar (another two security guards were needed), Clarke slumped onto one of the overstuffed barstools, head pounding.

“Jesus, Clarke. What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t, really.”

Raven perched on the stool beside her, resting a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “I really wish you didn’t have this innate need to save everybody, Griffin.”

Clarke scoffed. “It does get me into some awkward situations, that’s for sure.”

“You were great, though,” Octavia smiled. “I bet you’re that girl’s hero.”

Clarke’s head snapped up at the mention of the girl. Her eyes roved the bar until she spotted her slipping into the bathroom, arm still held stiffly against her body. “Y’know what? I’m just gonna go check on her, make sure she’s okay.”

Raven’s eyebrows twitched.

“Don’t. I’m just gonna see if she needs medical attention, that’s all.”

“Sure thing, Griff.”

She flicked at Raven's brace, rolling her eyes as the tan girl smirked at her.

“Want us to wait for you?” Octavia asked.

“Nah, that’s okay.”

“We gotta get going anyway. Need to drop Jasper off before his curfew ends.”

“It is not a curfew!”

“Well, what is it then?”

“My mom just likes me to be home at a reasonable hour,” he mumbled.

Clarke tugged on his sleeve. “Hey, Jas?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for getting the security guard. You really had my back there.”

A grin broke out across his face. “No problem.”

She pulled him into a hug, murmuring “Seriously, thank you” into his ear before stepping back.

“So, we still on for movie night at yours on Friday?”

“You know it,” Raven grinned. “Gonna be a total horror fest.”

“We’re placing bets to see who’ll cry first.”

“My money’s on Murphy.”

“Nah, it’ll be Monty for sure.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and — bye, Clarke! — we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we…”

Clarke chuckled to herself as her friends left the bar, chugging the remainder of her beer before walking over to the toilets. She pushed the door open slowly, sticking her head in only to find it empty.

“Hello?”

At first, she heard nothing. Then, a quiet sniffle from the stall at the very end of the row.

Clarke let the door swing shut behind her as she walked over to the stall. She could see a battered pair of Converses under the door as she approached, and the owner of the sneakers shuffled further back as Clarke moved closer.

“Um, hey.”

Still no response.

“Sorry if I’m intruding. I, uh, I’m Clarke. The girl from earlier?”

Nothing.

“I know you don’t know me and you probably don’t want to talk to anyone right now, but I just wanted to see if you were okay.”

More silence.

“It looks like you hurt your arm. My mom’s a doctor, I could take you to see her if you’re in pain.”

Clarke let out a quiet sigh when she was met with nothing but empty air.

“Okay, well. Best of luck, or whatever.”

She retreated slowly, not wanting to disturb the strange tranquil aura that blanketed the bathroom. But she paused when a soft click came from behind her. Turning, she watched as the stall door creaked open and the Converse-clad girl walked out. He arms were wrapped around herself as she stared at Clarke, hair falling into her eyes so Clarke could barely see her face.

“Oh. Hi.”

The girl shuffled from one foot to the other.

“I’m Clarke. Griffin.”

A slight nod.

“Do you—how’s your arm doing?”

The girl shrugged. The movement jogged her hair a little and Clarke caught a flash of red.

“Oh fuck, you’re bleeding too. I totally forgot about that. Here, let me—”

Clarke had rushed over to the girl without even thinking about it and the brunette shrunk back, burrowing further behind her curtain of hair as Clarke froze in front of her.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.”

Clarke grabbed some tissues, walking over to the sinks and wetting them a little.

“Here. Hold this to your head.”

The girl hesitated before taking the tissues, using her other hand to tuck her hair behind her ears. Then she lifted her eyes to Clarke’s and the blonde couldn’t hold back the gasp that whooshed out of her like air leaving a balloon. The girl had the most captivating eyes that Clarke had ever seen – emerald green like the sea and full of a deep pain that wrenched at her heart. And then she looked away and the moment was gone, Clarke awkwardly playing with her watch strap as the girl dabbed at her temple.

“So, um, your arm…”

The girl took a shaky breath before meeting Clarke’s worried gaze.

“Hurts, I guess.”

Clarke was taken aback by the gentleness of her voice. It was the kind of voice that belonged to tinkering glasses and soft chimes, a voice that seemed to tiptoe out from the girl’s throat and rest delicately on her lips.

“Well, I can take you to the hospital, if you’d like. My mom’s working tonight, I could get her to take a look at it for you.”

Worry flitted across the girl’s face. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

Clarke could hear something in her voice, something that made Clarke think that kindness wasn’t something that was often afforded to this girl.

“It’s no problem at all. We can get a taxi there.”

The girl nodded, still trembling a little as she inspected the blood-flecked tissue she had been holding to her head. Clarke reached over and grabbed a couple more dry tissues, holding her hand out to the girl but staying a few paces away.

“May I…?”

A moment of silence passed between them and then the girl gave a shaky nod. Clarke closed the space between them, gently pushing the girl’s hair out of the way before wiping away the excess blood from around the wound.

“This doesn’t seem too bad. Just a scrape,” Clarke nodded, “But we should still get my mom to take a look. Make sure you don’t have a concussion or anything.”

Clarke’s fingers rested on the nape of the girl’s neck as she finished cleaning her up. Then came a moment when their eyes connected once again and the room seemed to narrow until all they could see was each other, and then the girl twisted out from under Clarke’s touch and retreated, creating space between them once again.

“I’m sorry, I— I didn’t mean to…”

But the girl refused to meet Clarke’s gaze and the blonde sighed defeatedly, tossing the tissues into the trash before picking up the girl’s rucksack for her.

“Come on. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

The girl followed slowly behind until they were stood outside the bar. Five minutes later and their taxi pulled up, Clarke holding open the passenger door for the brunette. She whispered “thanks” before getting in, curling in on herself and staring out of the window.

The drive to the hospital was a quiet one, the radio chattering softly in the background. Clarke considered trying to start a conversation, but had a feeling she wasn’t going to get very far in their current situation. So, she opted for tuneless humming and finger drumming on the window instead. A moment passed where Clarke was sure she caught the girl with a tiny smile on her face, but she brushed it off as a trick of the light.

They pulled into the hospital parking lot twenty minutes later, Clarke paying the driver before stepping out of the taxi and falling in-step with the girl as they approached the hospital entrance.

“I get the impression that you don’t really like talking to people, but I just need you to tell me one thing before we go in.”

The brunette’s eyes widened with apprehension.

“…Your name?”

Clarke saw relief flood the girl’s face. She scuffed her shoe against the sidewalk, picking at a fraying thread on her jeans before muttering something into her chest. Clarke’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Gonna have to be a bit louder than that, I’m afraid.”

The girl took a deep breath before glancing up at Clarke.

“Lexa. My name’s Lexa.”

“Lexa.”

The girl nodded.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Clarke smiled.

This time Clarke could clearly see the hint of a smile that tugged at Lexa’s lips, and she patted her once on the arm before gesturing to the hospital doors with a flick of her head.

“Come on then. In we go.”

Lexa nodded, moving to hoist her rucksack onto her shoulder.

“Fuck,” she hissed, wincing as she held her arm to her chest.

“Here, let me,” Clarke murmured, taking the bag from Lexa's limp fingers.

They walked through the large sliding doors and into the brightly-lit reception area.

“Hey, Rhi.”

“Hi, Clarke,” the young receptionist smiled.

“Is my mother around?”

“Mhmm. She’s just finishing up her rounds. Want me to page her and tell her you’re here?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Clarke led Lexa over to the seating area. Lexa slumped into the plastic seat with a pained sigh while Clarke perched on the edge of hers.

“So…”

Clarke’s head jerked up, surprised to hear Lexa speak again.

“Has your mom worked here long?”

“About four years now.”

Lexa nodded contemplatively. “So what does your mom d—”

“Clarke! Honey, are you okay?” Abby Griffin came rushing over, crouching beside Clarke as her eyes flitted over Clarke’s face.

“Yeah, mom. I’m fine.”

“Thank goodness.”

“I do have someone here who needs some help, though.”

Abby peered around Clarke, meeting Lexa’s frightened gaze.

“Oh. And who’s this?”

“This is Lexa.”

Clarke helped her to her feet, smiling reassuringly at her before looking back at her mother.

“Lexa,” Abby nodded. “I’m Dr Griffin.”

Lexa mumbled a shy “Hello”, leaning against Clarke a little as her head began to pound.

“She’s had a pretty rough day, mom.” Worry had crept into Clarke’s voice.

Lexa let out a whine as pain shot through her arm and across her torso; Clarke snaked an arm around her waist to steady her. Abby’s eyes softened.

“Okay, then. Let’s see what we can do for you, Lexa.” She motioned for them to follow her, nodding at Lexa supportively before leading them into an examination room. Lexa halted in the doorway as Clarke hung back in the hall.

“I can’t come in with you, I’m sorry. Hospital rules.” Clarke’s heart twisted and she watched apologetically as Lexa walked slowly into the room, panic etched onto her face. “I’ll be right here as soon as you’re done. I promise.”

Then the door swung shut and Clarke was left alone, worry and confusion swirling around her brain as she slid down the wall and sat opposite the examination room door. For some reason, she cared about what happened to Lexa. She was worried about this frail, strange girl she knew nothing about, and she had no idea why.

Now all she could do was wait. Wait, and hope that maybe there’d come a time when Lexa would no longer have the ghost of a smile on her face; but rather, a spark of life in those sea-green eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

An hour passed and Clarke was beginning to panic when the door to the examination room finally swung open. Abby exited with a very strange expression on her face. Clarke shot to her feet.

“Mom?”

But Abby didn’t respond, racing past her daughter and heading towards the staff quarters. Clarke hesitated for a second before quietly following her mother, keeping a safe distance away as she padded through the brightly-lit halls of the hospital.

“Jackson.”

Clarke halted and watched Abby approach another doctor who was standing just inside the staff room. It was difficult to make out everything Abby was saying to him – Clarke couldn’t move closer without risking being seen – but she managed to pick out a few snippets of conversation.

“…no, she’s a new patient... not on the system… never seen her before, but with injuries like that…” Abby paused, letting out a heavy sigh.

Clarke craned as far forward as she could get, trying desperately to block out the other sounds going on around her as she focused on her mother’s words.

“Jackson, I don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, you do.”

“But I can’t just say nothing.”

“You have to. It’s up to the patient, Abby. You can’t force her to talk about something she didn’t bring up herse—”

“Her other injuries are conducive with those of abuse, Jackson!” Abby’s voice rose a little. “You really think I should keep quiet about this?”

“I don’t think you should. But the law does.”

“Shit,” Abby sighed, fingers pressed to her forehead.

“Legally you can only help her with the injury she’s spoken to you about.”

“ _Legally_ , that’s bullshit.”

“I know.”

Clarke took a step back, glancing down to see her hands clenched into fists. Forcing her fingers to uncurl, she ran a thumb over the moon-shaped indents on her palm. Her mother’s words rang in her ears.

“…for a coffee break?”

“Sure, Jackson. See you later.”

Clarke’s head snapped up as her mother’s footsteps began to draw closer. Turning on her heel, she strode back to the examination room, perching back on the seat outside as nonchalantly as her flushed cheeks would allow.

“Oh. Hey, mom.”

“Clarke, honey. I, um,” Abby nibbled on her lower lip, “I just have to finalise some things with Lexa, then you can go in and see her. Okay?”

Clarke nodded. Abby gave her a small smile, pushing a few stray hairs away from her face before opening the door to the exam room. Clarke strained her ears as muffled voices came from inside the room for the next few minutes. Then the door swung open and Abby walked back out into the hall, seeming to deflate a little.

“Mom? Is everything okay?”

Abby answered with a sad smile and a nod towards the open door. Clarke took the hint, grabbing her jacket from the seat beside her, her heart thumping in her chest as she passed through the doorway and into the small room.

* * *

 

The weak evening light filtered in from behind the thin curtains. Lexa was sitting on the examination bed, legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes flicked up when the door opened. She tensed a little.

“Lexa, hey.”

“Hello, Clarke.” She relaxed ever-so-slightly, eyes flitting warily to Abby in the hallway, as Clarke perched on the edge of the bed.

“How’re you feeling?”

Lexa shrugged.

“Is the pain still bad?”

“Not really.”

“That’s good,” Clarke smiled. Her mind was whirring as she tried to process what she’d overheard her mother saying to Jackson. Figuring out how to ask Lexa about it was proving to be much more difficult than she’d anticipated. “So, um, is there anyone at home you’d like us to call? To let them know that you’ve been in the hospital?”

Lexa’s eyebrows pulled together nervously. This didn’t go unnoticed by Clarke.

“Is everything okay?”

A swift nod was all Lexa gave in response.

“Are you sure?”

Their eyes locked.

“Because… well, if you…” Clarke was fidgeting, tugging at the sleeve of her jacket nervously.

Lexa’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

“My mom, she… she noticed some other injuries, along with your arm and your head, and...”

Lexa swung her legs off the bed and got swiftly to her feet. Clarke blinked at her in surprise.

“Lexa—”

“I have to go.” Lexa grabbed her bag from the bedside table.

Clarke panicked, rushing to her mother who was still waiting in the hallway. “Mom…”

Lexa shoved past them both, eyes downcast. “Thanks for your help, Doctor Griffin.”

Abby’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you might stay, maybe Clarke can make sure you get home okay—”

“No. I have to go.”

Clarke turned to Abby, eyes pleading. “Do something, please. She can’t just leave.”

“Actually, she can,” Abby spoke softly, apologetically. “I’ve finished checking her and she’s fine, apart from some minor bruising.”

“But, Mom—”

“That’s it, Clarke. That’s all I can do.”

Clarke could hear the resignation in her mother’s voice. She spun back to Lexa in a panic, hand outstretched. “Lexa, wait—”

But Lexa was already halfway to the door, chancing one quick glance back at Clarke before pushing the door open and racing down the corridor. She managed to stay composed as she hurried towards the exit, but her stomach was churning with panic. Because if she didn’t know any better, she’d say Clarke was worried about her. And worry led to caring. And caring led to finding out the truth.

And Lexa couldn’t let anyone find out the truth.

* * *

 

Clarke went back to the bar three times over the next week, hoping to run into Lexa. But there was no sign of her anywhere. She even asked her mother for any information Lexa might’ve left with her at the hospital; but all they had was a first name, nothing else.

Friday rolled around and it was time for the movie night at Raven’s. Clarke wasn’t really in the mood for socialising, but she hadn’t seen her friends all week and thought they’d be a good way to distract her from thinking about Lexa. She arrived just after 8pm to find the gathering already in full-swing: Octavia and Raven were squabbling over which Scream movie was the best, Monty was tormenting Jasper by swatting at his head with a cushion whenever he wasn’t looking, and Bellamy was raiding the fridge while Murphy flicked through Raven’s vast DVD collection.

“Clarke, you made it!”

“Hey, Monty.”

“Griffin, would you _please_ tell Octavia that the first Scream movie is obviously the best one?”

“Oh, come _on._ Number four is clearly the winner.”

“You just think that because you have a crush on Hayden Panettiere.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Good point.”

Clarke smiled as her friends continued their debate, making her way over to Murphy who was staring at a heap of DVDs like it was the world’s hardest maths equation.

“Clarke, you gotta help me.”

She knelt next to him, eyes scanning the copious pile of films. “We can definitely rule out the Wrong Turn franchise,” she shuddered, removing six DVDs from the pile with a grimace.

“M’kay.”

“And I don’t think Scream is a contender for tonight, since no one can agree on which one they’d actually want to watch.”

“Yep.”

“So, we’re left with about seventy movies. Great.”

Murphy chuckled as Clarke began sifting through the pile, methodically removing a bunch of DVDs every few seconds until she was left with only a handful.

“Okay, we’ve got it down to these four: Mirrors, Rogue, Paranormal Activity, and The Shining.”

“Paranormal Activity doesn’t count as a scary movie,” Raven drawled, draping herself across the sofa behind them.

“I think Jasper would disagree with you on that,” Murphy smirked.

“Hey! I wasn’t scared, okay?”

“Could’ve fooled me, Jas.”

“I’d just had a lot of water to drink that night.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say.”

“I guess that rules out that one, too,” Clarke murmured, tossing the DVD to the side. “So what’ll it be, kids?”

The rest of the group gathered round to look at the three films Clarke was holding up. After an almost unanimous vote, they settled on The Shining. Bellamy returned to the kitchenette to grab a crate of beers while Murphy set the film up, tossing a few bags of popcorn onto the sofa.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, O.”

“You so did that on purpose. Dick.”

Bellamy shot Clarke a wink as he handed her a beer, squeezing himself in between her and Murphy on the sofa next to Raven and Octavia.

“Why do we have to sit on the floor?” Jasper whined from below their feet.

“Because,” Raven spoke around a mouthful of popcorn, “we got here first so we get dibs on the sofa.”

“Of course you got here first, you _live_ here!”

“Details, shmetails.”

“And I got here before Clarke, so technically I should—”

“Babe, just shut up,” Monty chided gently, patting Jasper on the shoulder as the lanky boy began to sulk.

Octavia grabbed the remote to press play, and then the room was filled with the booming bass of the film’s opening credits…

* * *

 

The movie was an hour in, and Clarke hadn’t heard one word of it. She was too preoccupied with thoughts of Lexa, worrying about where she might be and what state she was in. Raven had glanced over a few times and noticed Clarke staring into space, eyes glazed over.

“S’cuse babe,” she whispered, lightly pushing on Octavia’s legs that were currently stretched across her lap. She stood up quickly, shuffling round to the back of the sofa, and brought her lips to Clarke's ear.

“Clarke?”

The blonde jerked, startled by Raven’s sudden presence. “What?”

“I need to talk to you,” she muttered.

“Right now?!”

“Yeah. Meet me in the kitchen.”

Clarke rolled her eyes as Raven slinked away, handing the popcorn to Bellamy before getting up to follow her friend. The small kitchen was bathed in a dull glow, Raven’s face half-hidden in shadow as she leaned back against the counter.

“What’s up, Ray?”

Raven quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t play dumb with me, Griffin.”

“Huh?”

“Come on.”

“What? I don’t—”

“Clarke. I know when you’re hiding something.”

“Hiding?! Who says I’m hiding—”

“Who is she?”

Clarke spluttered indignantly. “Who?!”

“The girl you’re thinking about.”

Clarke glanced back at the rest of her friends, relieved to see them all engrossed in the movie. “What makes you think there’s a girl?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “Because I’ve known you for ten years and I know what you’re like.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well,” Raven hoisted herself up onto the countertop, legs dangling, “when you like a boy, you get all giggly and coy and fluttery. But when you like a girl, you get kinda quiet and mopey like the girls in those indie movies that Octavia likes to watch.”

Clarke blanched, lips set in a stubborn line.

“That’s what I thought,” Raven smirked.

The blonde let out a sigh, running a hand through her hair.

“Details please, Griff.”

“She’s—it’s not like that, Ray.”

Raven quirked an eyebrow.

“It’s not—I mean, we haven’t really—she doesn’t—”

“Jeez, Clarke. I haven’t seen you this flustered since… well, ever, actually.”

“Shut up.”

“She must be something special.”

“Mmm.”

“Clarke?”

“Huh?”

“Is she?”

“Is she what?”

“Special?”

“Oh.” Clarke leaned against the fridge, picking at a loose thread on her flannel shirt. “I think she could be, yeah.”

“…What the fuck does that mean?”

Clarke had to stifle a laugh at the look of total incredulity on Raven's face. “Honestly, Ray? I have no fucking clue.”

“Okay, I’m lost.”

“Join the club.”

“Can you just, I don’t know, start from the beginning, or something? Give me something to work with here, Griff.”

“Okay, okay.” Clarke shuffled closer to the left, waist now pressed against Raven’s thigh. “Remember the other night, at the bar?”

Raven nodded.

“Remember that girl, the really prett—the one who almost got into a fight?”

“Oh, with that huge scary lady?”

“Mhmm.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, I went to see if she was okay, after you guys left.”

“I already knew that.”

“Patience, Ray.”

“Sorry.”

“She was pretty shaken up, and a bit hurt. It wasn’t anything serious, but I thought I’d take her to my mom just to be sure.”

“Lucky her.”

“Ew.”

“What?!”

“Your fixation on my mom has got to stop, Reyes.”

“Not my fault she’s smokin’ hot.”

“Funny how you never say these things when Octavia’s around.”

“I like making her scream with pleasure, not anger.”

Clarke groaned. “That was something I could’ve gone my whole life without hearing.”

“You’re welcome.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Clarke huffed, “I overheard my mom talking to Jackson after she examined Lexa—”

“That’s her name?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“It’s beautiful,” Clarke murmured.

“Oh, god. Please just get on with the story,” Raven teased.

“So I overheard my mom and she said… well, the injuries from the bar weren’t the only ones she found on Lexa.”

Raven frowned. “What d’you mean?”

“I mean… she had more. Injuries. And the others, mom said they looked like…” Clarke’s breathing became shallow. “It looks like she’s being abused, Ray.”

Raven looked stricken. Clarke let out a shaky breath.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t your mom—”

“I tried, Ray. She can’t do anything. Not unless Lexa asks.”

“That’s fucked.”

“I know.”

Raven sat contemplatively for a moment. “Look, Griff…”

Clarke met Raven's hesitant eyes.

“I know this might not be what you want to hear, but… maybe she just doesn’t want help?”

Clarke’s spine stiffened. “No.”

“I know it sucks, but you can’t force her to—”

“Raven, someone is _hurting_ her. I can’t just sit back and do nothing, not when I know what’s happening.” Clarke gripped the edge of the countertop behind her, trying to stop her hands from shaking.

“You care about her.”

Clarke looked up, jaw set firmly. “Yeah, Ray. I do.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Raven’s voice was gentle. She slid down from the counter and onto her feet, pressing her shoulder against Clarke's.

“You should’ve seen her, Ray. She was so broken. So fragile.”

Raven placed her arm around Clarke’s shoulders, rubbing comforting circles with her thumb.

“What are you two gossiping about over there?” Bellamy called. “You’re missing the best part!”

“We’d better get back,” Clarke muttered.

“Clarke, wait.”

She looked at Raven expectantly.

“I don’t want you to get hurt by this.”

“What? Why would I—”

“I know you want to save her. But…” Raven paused, “She might not want saving.”

“Get back over here, you two!”

Raven gave Clarke a sad smile before walking over to the sofa, pressing a soft kiss to Octavia’s temple as she snuggled into her. Clarke lingered in the kitchen for a moment, arms crossed over her stomach. Then she re-joined her friends, fixing a forced smile onto her face for the rest of the night.

When the movie ended, Clarke was up like a shot, bidding her friends a hasty farewell before racing out to her car. She was just opening the driver-side door when:

“Clarke, hold on!” Raven came hobbling down the gravel pathway.

“Ray, you’re gonna make your leg worse if you keep—”

“Forget what I said.”

“What?”

“About Lexa not wanting to be saved. I mean, that might still be true,” Raven muttered. “But just because someone doesn’t want something, that doesn’t mean they don’t need it.”

“Raven, what—”

“My leg. I didn’t want help with it, did I? I thought I could deal with it alone, without O or you or anyone. I was stubborn as hell.”

“Can’t argue with you there.”

“But, turns out I did need you. I needed all of you, in different ways. Sure, I needed the doctors to help me get better. But I needed my friends, people who care about me. Because you guys made me smile, and laugh, and you showed me that I could keep going despite how crap everything seemed.”

Clarke felt tears brimming in her eyes.

“No matter how dark the clouds in my mind were; you were all there, tearing through the darkness to let the sun in.”

“Ray, I had no idea—”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Raven mumbled, averting her eyes. “It's just… having you guys around, it really made a difference. And I think it could for Lexa, too. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.”

Clarke smiled gratefully, pulling Raven in for an unexpected hug. “We love you, Ray. You know that.”

Raven stepped back, punching Clarke lightly on the shoulder. “Guess I love you too.”

“You’d better.”

They exchanged a smile, then Clarke got into her car, fastening her seatbelt before turning the key in the ignition and bringing the car to life. Raven held her hand up in a wave as Clarke reversed out of the drive.

The roads on her way home were clear, but her mind was cluttered. She was stuck on a roundabout of thoughts, going from one option to the next over and over again until she pulled into her apartment parking lot.

“Fuck,” she hissed, resting her forehead on the steering wheel.

She was startled out of her thoughts by her phone beeping in her pocket.

A message from Raven, that read:

**Do what you think is right. And I’m here for you, if you need me.**

Clarke pocketed her phone, relieved that she was no longer alone in all this. Then she trudged up to her apartment, not even bothering to take off her shoes before throwing herself onto her bed. She was asleep in seconds, hair splayed out on the pillow like a golden halo.

At first she dreamt of delicate smiles and green eyes that sparkled in the sun; but then those eyes filled with fear and the smile was tainted by bloody teeth and bruised lips. Clarke awoke abruptly, sweat pooling across her back. Grabbing her phone from where it had fallen onto the bed from her pocket, she typed out a quick message. Then she pulled the duvet over her shivering body, forcing herself to breathe until sleep once again began to tug at her weary mind.

* * *

 

Octavia was woken by an insistent buzzing in her ear.

“Baaaaaaaabe,” she mumbled, poking Raven's cheek.

“Whuh?”

“Phone.”

Raven propped herself up on her elbows, peering at Octavia with bleary eyes. “Where?”

“Under pillow.”

“Got it.” Raven unlocked the device, hissing when the piercing artificial light illuminated the room. But she quickly fell silent as her eyes scanned the words on the screen:

**I thought about what you said. And you’re right. I have to help her. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if anything bad had happened to you when you needed help; I’m not gonna risk it happening to Lexa either.**

**Night, Ray. Love you. x**

“S’everything okay?”

“Yeah, babe,” Raven stroked Octavia’s arm reassuringly, “Go back to sleep.”

She read over the messages a few times, a smile creeping onto her face despite how tired she was. Lying back down, she cradled the phone in her hands, staring at the screen until the letters began to blur. She fell back to sleep with her fingers curled around the phone, the words lingering on the screen for as long as they could before the auto-lock kicked in.

* * *

 

Clarke spent the next few weeks looking for Lexa. She visited the bar over and over again, questioning the bartenders so often that eventually they were ready with an answer before she’d even asked the question. She scoured Facebook, keying in ‘Lexa’, then ‘Alexa’, then ‘Alexandria’, and then ‘LexAKSSNDSFASDSF this is fucking impossible’. She even asked Raven to keep a look out for her, just in case.

**Any luck?**

**Nope. Sorry, Griff.**

**Fuck.**

**Don’t lose hope.**

But Clarke was losing hope. She was beginning to think that she would never see Lexa again. She couldn’t stop thinking that she should’ve talked to her more. Followed her out of the hospital that day. Done _something._

Clarke hated feeling so full of regret.

“I shouldn’t have let her go,” she muttered, shutting down her laptop after another fruitless Facebook search.

Trouble began to feel inevitable.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: contains scenes of violence.

“Lexa?”

Lexa stirred slowly, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She peered out across her room, squinting through the harsh morning light that was streaming through her open curtains.

“Lexa!”

She sat up quickly, a whine escaping through her teeth when a sharp pain shot through her ribs. She gripped her torso, trying to breathe through it. A glance under her pyjama shirt revealed her newest punishment: a spattering of purple bruises, splayed across her rib cage like an abstract art piece.

“Lexa, I swear to god.” Her stepfather’s voice came in harder this time, more threatening.

She tumbled out of bed, scrambling for whatever clothes were scattered across her bedroom floor. Pulling a sweater over her head, she raced to the bathroom, frantically tugging a hairbrush through her curls while a toothbrush dangled from her lips.

It might’ve been funny if she wasn’t so terrified.

She was downstairs in a matter of minutes, baggy sweatpants barely clinging on to her brittle hipbones.

“Where’s my breakfast?” Sam’s tone was monotone, almost as if he was bored. But there was an edge to his voice, an edge that Lexa knew all too well.

“I overslept.”

Sam sneered before taking a swig of beer. “Isn’t that why I got you that alarm clock? To make sure you’re always up in time to make breakfast for your dear father?”

“You’re not my father,” Lexa muttered.

“What was that?” He straightened up in his armchair, pausing whatever he was watching on the television. His body remained still; but his eyes flicked over to Lexa, who stood stock-still in the small kitchen.

“Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Lexa moved with quiet steps, slinking over to the fridge with her heart in her mouth.

“Two eggs. Bacon. Toast, no butter,” Sam called.

“Fuck you,” Lexa whispered, placing the ingredients onto the counter with trembling hands.

“And don’t you dare burn it this time.”

Lexa got to work, smearing the frying pan with oil before cracking in the eggs. She watched the flames lick up the side of the pan, the whites of the eggs curling as they cooked.

“You know, you’re lucky to have me,” Sam said, eyes still on the television. “No one else would want you, that’s for sure.”

Lexa tried to block out his words as he carried on speaking.

“Even your own mother wants nothing to do with you. That’s why she works so much, to get away from you. Fuck, that’s sad.”

_Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him._

“And don’t even get me started on your father. Heading into some war, getting himself killed for a cause that doesn’t even make sense.”

_Block him out._

“Stupid. Just stupid.” He gulped down another mouthful of beer, propping his feet up on the shabby coffee table.

Lexa tried to steady her hands, now flipping rashers of bacon in the boiling-hot pan. The television droned on for a few more minutes as she tended to the food.

“You’re taking your fucking time today, kid.”

_Just breathe._

“I’m hungry, y’know.”

_Breathe._

“Lexa, for FUCK’S sake.”

Then, before she knew what was happening, Sam was beside her, gripping her forearm with a force that made her cry out.

“Listen, you useless cunt,” he hissed, his face almost pressed against hers. “You should be fucking grateful to be here, you hear me?”

Lexa whimpered, recoiling as his rancid breath caressed her skin.

“You’re alone, Lexa. Your dad clearly didn’t give a shit about you or he wouldn’t have gotten himself blown up. And your mother, well… she loves me more than she ever loved you.” His face twisted into a cruel smile, eyes narrowed as Lexa tried to writhe out from where she was trapped between him and the stove. “And you know that’s true, or else she would’ve said something about…” His eyes travelled down, his smirk growing as he took in the numerous burns and bruises that littered Lexa’s skin.

Lexa could feel something brewing inside her as his words tore into her. It was bubbling up, liquid fingers reaching out until it sat just below the surface of her skin.

“No one cares about you, Lexa. You have _no one_.”

It was seeping into her mind now, red dripping across her eyes until it was the only colour she could see.

“And no one’s coming to rescue you. You know that, don’t you?”

Her hands were shaking again. But for once, they weren’t shaking with fear.

“You’re stuck here forever, Lexa. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” He was leering at her, laughing at the way she had curled in on herself with her arms behind her back.

“You’re right, Sam.”

His smile faltered.

“No one’s coming to rescue me.”

He grinned triumphantly.

“So I guess I’m going to have to rescue myself.” Suddenly, she flung her arm out from behind her, bringing the searing hot pan crashing into the side of Sam’s head. For a second he just stood there, shoulders juddering a little. Then he slumped to the floor, his body landing on the patchy linoleum with a dull thud. Lexa dropped the pan, barely registering the oil that had splattered all over the cupboards. A thin trail of blood had begun to trickle from Sam’s temple. His foot twitched a few times. Incoherent moans pushed out from between his lips.

Then she was racing up the stairs. Bursting into her room, her eyes landed on her old duffel bag poking out from under her bed. She yanked it out, filling it with clothes from her chest of drawers. She also shoved in her wallet, her headphones, and her favourite stuffed animal – a tatty raccoon that her father had won for her at a carnival when she was a child. From the bathroom, she grabbed a few bottles of paracetamol, along with her toothbrush and comb.

She stood in front of the mirror for a second, just looking at herself. Her hair was matted and clumped together; her eyes were sunken and devoid of life; and her mouth had been without a smile for so long, she could barely recall what happiness even felt like.

But then she heard a moan from downstairs and shot out of the bathroom, back to her room. She shoved on her sneakers and grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair before creeping down the stairs. She slunk down the hallway, peering around the corner into the kitchen. Sam was still face-down on the floor, now stirring a little.

Lexa was tempted to just leave, but she didn’t have much money and knew she had to get some food before she went anywhere. Lifting onto the very tips of her toes, she stepped into the kitchen, barely breathing for fear of rousing her stepdad. She made it to the cupboards, taking a loaf of bread and some tins of fruit. She grabbed a packet of biscuits, and was about to reach up for a tin of tuna when she was shoved forwards, her forehead smacking onto the exposed shelf.

“BITCH. Wh’ the fuck d’you think you’re doing?” Sam drawled from behind her.

Lexa staggered to her right, cradling her head while keeping hold of her bag.

“Sss—tupid bitch,” he slurred, eyes rolling a little as he lurched towards her.

Lexa tried to dodge the other way, but Sam swung out his arm, catching her throat with a blow that winded her. She doubled over, gasping desperately.

“Thought you could out–smart me,” he seethed, taking a chunk of Lexa's hair and using it to drag her into the middle of the kitchen. He pushed her down and then dropped to his knees, clambering astride her and pinning her arms down with each of his legs.

“You’re gonna regret the day you were ever born,” he breathed, fingers scraping down her cheek.

And then he began to hit her. Over and over again, the blows rained down on her face, her chest, her stomach. Lexa couldn’t even cry out; her body just slipped into shock as she lay there, the edges of her vision slowly turning black. Her head flopped to the side after a particularly hard punch – and that’s when she saw it. The breadknife that had tumbled to the floor after she had grabbed the frying pan. She was weak, each hit draining her more and more. But then, a voice…

_Don’t let him win._

_Don’t let this be your end._

_You deserve more than this._

_You deserve to survive._

_You deserve to thrive._

Suddenly Sam’s weight was gone. Lexa's eyes flicked open to find him bent over; blood dripped from his head, hands propped on his knees as he regained his breath. Now was her chance. She kept her eyes on him while her own hand stretched out across the floor. Her fingers curled around the plastic handle. His hands bunched into fists. She dragged herself up. His head lifted to meet her wild eyes. Her grip on the knife tightened. His mouth twisted into a deranged smile.

Then she lunged forwards, driving the knife into his side. He fell backwards with a mewl of pain, his hands fluttering around the pulsing wound. Lexa used the door frame to drag herself to her feet, wincing with each movement she made. She stood there for a moment, watching Sam splutter and twitch as the blood pooled around him.

She didn’t feel relieved.

She didn’t feel guilty.

She didn’t feel anything at all.

* * *

 

Lexa didn’t know how she got to the hospital.

She couldn’t remember wrapping the strap of her duffel bag around her wrist so she could drag it behind her. She couldn’t remember stumbling out of the house, using garden walls and leaning trees to stay upright. She couldn’t remember the stranger running to her from across the street, asking what her name was and what had happened.

All she could remember was being slumped against the hospital reception desk, blood trickling from her lip onto the pristine white counter. She’d asked for Abby; or, she’d tried to. That was when the room started to warp and spin, and she couldn’t hold herself up even with the help of the desk beneath her.

Then everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

Lexa awoke to soft beeping and the steady hum of machinery. She blinked slowly, her eyelids still weighed down with fatigue.

“Lexa?”

She turned her head when she heard her name, eyes coming to rest on Abby Griffin. The doctor was perched on a plastic chair across the room, a kind smile on her face.

Lexa pushed herself into a sitting position, grimacing when pain sparked across her face and chest.

“Hey, hey,” Abby breathed, rushing over to gently guide Lexa back down onto the bed. “You have to take it easy. Your body’s very fragile right now.”

She remained by the bed, her hand resting on Lexa’s knee.

“What did he… do to me?” Lexa spoke quietly.

Abby’s lip twitched. “You had a concussion when you were brought in. You also have several major bruises, some swelling. And a broken rib.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“You’ve been unconscious for about fourteen hours now,” Abby exhaled slowly. “For a moment there, I thought we were going to lose you. But then you fought your way back.”

Lexa held back a shuddering breath, bringing her arm up to cradle her bandaged chest.

“Luckily the damage is nowhere near as bad as it could’ve been,” Abby continued, “But we are going to have to keep you here for a little while for observation, just to make sure you start healing right.”

“He hit me… so many times,” Lexa whispered, eyes glistening.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Abby said, her heart breaking a little as she looked upon the fragile girl.

“Please don’t send me back to him.”

Abby’s eyes hardened. “I won’t.”

Doctor Griffin knew that things weren’t going to be as simple as that. But in that moment, Lexa needed words of encouragement; not ones that would spark more fear.

“I promise you, Lexa. You’re going to be fine. Just a few days, then you can go ho—you’ll be free to leave.”

Lexa clasped her hands together to stop her fingers from trembling. Abby noticed this, reaching down and covering Lexa’s hands with one of her own.

“It’s nothing we can’t fix, okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“We’re going to get you better, Lexa,” Abby smiled gently, smoothing out a wrinkle in Lexa's blanket. “Now, can I get you anything? Water, maybe something to eat?”

“No, thank you.”

“There’s nothing you want?”

Lexa’s brow furrowed as she shook her head.

“Well, okay then,” Abby sighed, “But let me know if you change your mind. Just press the red button,” she gestured to the remote that dangled beside Lexa’s pillow, “and either a nurse or myself will be sent to check on you.”

She gave Lexa another smile before walking over to the open doorway.

“Um… Doctor Griffin?” Lexa’s voice was small, but carried easily across the quiet room.

“Yes?”

“I was just wondering… um, if it’s not too much trouble, I mean… could you, maybe—well, that’s if she even _wants_ to…”

Abby smiled understandingly. “Would you like to see Clarke?”

Lexa's head dipped in a shy nod.

“I’ll give her a call now.”

“Thank you.”

Their eyes met across the room for a brief moment – Abby’s were filled with sympathy and kindness, and Lexa's were wide and fearful and begging not to be alone.

* * *

 

“Mom! Hey.”

“Hi, honey.”

“What’s u—Jasper, get off me!” Clarke laughed, the phone wedged between her ear and her shoulder. She shoved herself off the sofa, flicking Jasper’s nose as she slunk past.

“Griff, where you off to?” Raven called, legs splayed as she spread herself out across a beanbag.

“Mom’s on the phone.”

“Hey, Abby!” Octavia yelled.

“Hey, hotter Griffin!” Raven chimed in.

“Jesus,” Clarke chuckled, shuffling past Bellamy and going through the adjoining door that led into the Blake’s kitchen, which, thankfully, was empty. “Sorry about that, mom.”

She set the phone down and pressed the Speaker button, then grabbed a glass from one of the overhead cupboards, filling it with water from the tap.

“So, what’s up?”

“Something’s happened.”

Clarke paused, the glass pressed against her lower lip. “I don’t like that voice.”

“I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to say, either.”

Clarke set the glass down on the counter, bracing her arms as she placed her hands on the cool marble.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

Abby took a deep breath. “It’s Lexa.”

Clarke's heart seized in her chest. “What happened? Have you seen her? Is she okay?”

“Honey, breathe,” Abby soothed. “She’s alright, yes. She’s at the hospital.”

“The hospital? Why?!”

“She… she’s been injured again.”

Clarke gripped the edge of the counter. “How bad?”

“She’s going to be okay, Clarke.”

“How. Bad.”

“A concussion, a broken rib, a lot of bruising.”

“Fuck.”

“Honey—”

“I’m coming to see her.”

Clarke was startled to hear laughter floating through the phone.

“I don’t understand why that’s funny.”

“Because,” Abby spoke, the smile evident in her voice, “that’s why I was calling.”

“What? This isn’t the time for riddles, mom.”

“She’s been asking for you.”

A beat of silence.

“She has?” Clarke's voice was suddenly much softer.

“She has.”

“Okay, I’ll—I’ll be right there,” she said, bursting out of the kitchen and almost crashing into Murphy.

“Whoa, Clarke. Where’s the fire?”

“Not now, Murph.”

He held his hands up in surrender and backed off, returning to his spot on the sofa next to Bellamy. Clarke wasn’t going to be let off that easy, though. Raven came charging over to her, Octavia hot on her heels.

“Clarke, what’s up?”

The blonde’s eyes swept the room, frantically trying to locate her coat and bag.

“I have to go.”

“Why? What happened?”

Clarke levelled Raven with a serious stare. “It’s Lexa. She’s been hurt.”

Raven's eyebrows rose a little, but she nodded in understanding, directing Clarke towards her stuff.

“Babe, what’s going on?” Octavia murmured.

Raven shook her head, indicating that this was a story for another time. Clarke was already bundled up in her scarf and jacket, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she made a beeline for the front door.

“Clarke, wait!”

The blonde paused, turning to Raven.

“Reckon you could have sex in a hospital bed?”

This made Clarke smile, despite the circumstances, and she left the Blake’s house with a tiny bubble of love and hope in her chest.

* * *

 

Clarke raced into the hospital lobby, cheeks flushed. She made a beeline for the reception desk, her feet carrying her there before her brain even had a chance to formulate a thought.

“Hi, um, I’m here to see a patient?”

The man behind the desk looked up from his computer with a bemused smile. “Sure. Could I have the patient’s name, please?”

“Lexa.”

“Last name?”

Clarke balked. “I—don’t know.”

“Okay, well, let me have a look for you,” said the receptionist, whose name badge read “Tyler”. He turned to his computer screen, clicking around a few times, before meeting Clarke's eyes. “Says we had a Lexa Woods admitted here yesterday—”

“That must be her,” Clarke blurted.

Tyler raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke mumbled, “I meant, could I see her? Please?”

“What’s your relation to the patient, if I may ask?”

“Um… she’s my—well, not _my—_ I mean, we’re friends, I guess—”

He gave Clarke an understanding smile. “Second floor. Room 176.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you,” Clarke glanced down at his nametag, “Tyler.”

“No problem,” he nodded.

Then she was racing down the hallway, skidding to a halt outside the closed elevator doors. She bounced from one foot to the other, keys jangling in her hand as the lift descended to her floor (not fast enough, damn it). The elevator arrived moments later and she crammed herself in, flattening herself against the metal wall as a lady in a wheelchair rolled in accompanied by a tall man in a suit.

Two stops later and the elevator reached Clarke's destination. She tore out of the steel cube like it was on fire, pelting down the yellow–painted halls until she came to a hallway labelled ‘160–180’. Her steps slowed, breath shallow as she approached Lexa’s room.

Then she saw a familiar figure standing just inside the doorway.

“Mom?”

Abby turned, a soft smile on her face. “Hey, honey.”

Clarke stopped just before reaching the open door, eyebrows furrowed.

“Go on,” Abby nodded.

Clarke slowly walked forwards, taking a breath in an attempt to calm her pounding heart. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. Sure, she hadn’t seen Lexa in weeks, and while they hadn’t parted on bad terms, it hadn’t seemed like Lexa had been particularly eager to see Clarke again.

And yet, there she was.

As Clarke shuffled into the room, Lexa glanced up from her phone, rushing to push herself into a sitting position. Despite wincing from moving too fast, her eyes were bright, intently watching Clarke as the blonde came to stand at the foot of the hospital bed. No words were exchanged for a few moments. They just looked at each other, Lexa’s lips pulling up into a timid smile while Clarke’s eyes were a mixture of happiness and confusion.

“So… come here often?”

Clarke’s lame attempt at a joke had the desired effect, as Lexa's smile grew and she let out a tiny giggle. She gestured to the chair by her bed, wrapping an arm around her ribs as she tried to adjust herself.

“Here,” Clarke rushed over, hands supporting Lexa’s back, “Let me.”

Clarke’s fingers were gentle, guiding Lexa up until she was sitting comfortably. Her touch lingered for a moment, the pads of her fingers warm even through Lexa’s hospital gown.

“Done” Clarke smiled sheepishly, returning to her seat.

Lexa tried not to notice how much she missed Clarke's touch as soon as it was gone.

“So, um… has my mom been treating you well?”

Lexa nodded, fiddling with her IV tube. “She’s been wonderful.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“And, uh… the food? Is it okay?”

Lexa’s gaze turned to one of amusement. “The food? I mean, it’s hospital food, so it’s not amazing. It’s edible, I guess.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Good,” Clarke nodded, fidgeting in her chair. “And, uh, what about the—”

“I’m really sorry.” The words ghosted across Lexa’s lips, her eyes downcast.

Clarke regarded the other girl quietly after her interruption, eyes tinted with curiosity. “For what?”

Lexa let out a deep sigh. “For how I behaved. Leaving, after you tried so hard to help me.”

A breath of silence hung between them.

“I shouldn’t have run off like that. I’m sorry, Clarke.”

Lexa watched as Clarke reached out to the bed, breath hitching as Clarke’s warm hand wrapped around her own cold fingers.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I was rude, and ungrateful, and—”

“Lexa.” Clarke began rubbing soothing circles on Lexa’s hand. “It’s okay. I mean it. You were scared, I understand.”

A tear trickled down Lexa's cheek.

“And I’m sorry if I was too forward. I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay, after—” Clarke paused, sad eyes looking at Lexa’s broken body. “What happened to you, Lexa?”

Clarke's words seemed to spark something within the brunette. Her smile was suddenly replaced with a stiff lip, and her eyes dulled as she averted them from Clarke's blues.

“Lexa?”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Talk about it.”

Clarke shuffled forward in her chair. “Whoever did this, they can’t hurt you now. You’re safe here.”

Lexa wrapped her arms around herself, coiling her body away from Clarke. “No.”

“No?”

“I just—I can’t. Can’t talk about it. Not yet.”

“Okay,” Clarke soothed, “We’ll, um, we can talk about something else?”

Lexa’s spring-loaded spine eased up just a little.

“Yeah, we can, uh—oh, I know! We can talk about how my friend Jasper can never get girls no matter how hard he tries, that’s always amusing.”

Lexa turned a little, peeking over her shoulder at Clarke. She saw the eagerness in the blonde’s eyes, saw the almost–desperate way her body was entirely angled towards Lexa, as if she was ready to leap into action if Lexa needed her to.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, tell me about Jasper,” Lexa smiled, rolling over fully so she was facing Clarke once again.

“Alright, well, first of all, he has the _worst_ pick-up lines in the world…”


	5. Chapter 5

Clarke's visits to the hospital soon became a regular thing. Three or four times a week, she’d finish whatever project she was working on at the college art studio, then after shouting a hurried goodbye to Monty and Murphy, she’d race to the corner shop to pick up something sweet before heading over to see Lexa.

(Taking candy to Lexa wasn’t something that Clarke had originally planned on making into a routine. But after seeing the way Lexa's face had lit up when she’d presented her with a packet of gummy bears one Friday afternoon, Clarke couldn’t help but to continue the charade for weeks afterwards.)

(And Lexa certainly wasn’t complaining, both about the free sweets and Clarke’s ever-increasing visits.)

But still, the atmosphere remained strained between them. Despite Clarke's compassionate and understanding nature, Lexa's pain lingered, stretched through her bones and between her fingers as she cradled her healing ribs. Shadows lurked in her mind, looming over her dreams until they became nightmares, and she’d often wake with sweat coating her skin, memories of anger and fear rattling her skull. Clarke would try to distract her on her bad days, bringing comic books and board games and extra strawberry laces (Lexa’s favourite). But sometimes this just wasn’t enough, and Lexa would stay curled in on herself until Clarke packed up and left, the air stagnant and empty.

And Clarke would try to simply brush it off. She’d tell herself that it wasn’t personal, that it wasn’t Lexa’s fault (and she knew it wasn’t, of course it wasn’t). But Clarke still felt a pang in her chest each time Lexa's smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, or when she was unable to do anything but cry as Clarke sat beside her and held her hand.

Clarke ached for Lexa. She ached for her to be happy, for her to one day escape the dark memories that gripped her mind and wouldn’t let go, for her to one day be able to wake up and look forward to the day ahead, instead of being cloaked in haunting memories.

Clarke ached. And Lexa did too.

* * *

 

“I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to help her.”

“Oh, honey.”

Clarke’s voice trembled as she brought her knees up to her chest, scooting further back onto the porch swing in her mother’s back garden. “She’s so broken, mom.”

Abby crossed the porch and sat next to her daughter, concern sitting in the lines that crinkled around her eyes. “It’ll be alright, in the end.”

“How do you know that?”

Abby couldn’t help but smile at the all-too-familiar stubbornness in Clarke's tone. “Because she has you.”

“And?”

“And,” Abby placed her arm around Clarke's hunched shoulders, “You’re the kindest, bravest, most caring person I know. If anyone can help someone find a spark of happiness in a dull world, it’s you.”

“Of course you’d say that. You’re biased,” Clarke sniffled.

“Maybe so,” Abby smiled. “But I’m also speaking from experience.”

“What?”

“Well, when your father passed away,” Abby shifted in her seat, tucking her legs underneath herself, “The pain was unbearable at first. Like I was being ripped apart.”

Clarke took her mother’s hand.

“But having you here, you with your determination to keep going despite everything horrible that happened. You helped me so much, Clarke.”

“I did?”

“Mhmm.”

“Well, Dad was kinda responsible for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“He made me promise, after he got sick.”

“Promise what?” Abby frowned.

“To never give up.”

A small smile tugged at Clarke's lips, eyes softening with fondness as she replayed her father’s words in her head.

“He said if anything was to ever happen to him, I had to keep going and try to find the positives in everything. Even when I felt so sad that I thought I might just stop breathing, he told me he needed me to keep living my life. And he made me promise to look out for you, too.”

“I swear, that man was psychic,” Abby smiled, shaking her head.

“I miss him so much sometimes.”

“I know, honey,” Abby pulled Clarke closer to her, cradling her head against her chest. “I do too.”

They sat in silence for a little while, the air soft with bird chatter and the tinkling of an ice cream truck down the street.

“You’re not going to give up on Lexa, are you?”

Clarke sat up a little.

“Because if you do, you’re gonna get an earful from your father once we all join him up there,” Abby joked, eyes glancing up to the sky.

“Oh, mom,” Clarke grinned. “As if I’m going to Heaven. You and Dad can proudly look down on me while I party with the fun people in Hell.”

“So you’re going to go back to see her?”

“I think we both know that I was always going to.”

“That’s my girl.”

* * *

 

Clarke returned to the hospital the next day, just as Lexa was being helped back into bed by one of the nurses.

“That’s it, easy now – hello, Clarke – nice and gentle, there we go…”

Lexa shot Clarke a sheepish smile, pink cheeks clashing with her bright blue gown. There was something different about her that day – she seemed lighter, a little more at-ease. Clarke quirked a smile as Lexa shuffled back onto her pillows, the nurse smoothing out a wrinkle in Lexa’s quilt with a warm smile.

“All good, Lexa?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you ladies to it then.”

“Thanks, Miles,” Lexa smiled at the young nurse, who shot Clarke a wave before exiting the room.

They settled into a warm silence. Lexa ducked her head, fiddling with a loose thread on the seam of her sleeve.

“You seem different today.”

Green met blue as Lexa looked up, Clarke watching her with curious amusement in her eyes.

“I do?”

Clarke nodded.

“How so?”

Lexa’s eyes had widened a little, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel slightly mesmerised by the almost-glowing emerald as their gazes connected once again.

“I, uh, I’m not sure,” Clarke shuffled shyly, tucking her legs underneath her body. “Happier, maybe? You just seem more relaxed, I guess. More so than the other day…”

A flash of guilt flitted across Lexa’s face. “Yeah, about that—”

But Clarke shook her head, interrupting Lexa with a “shh” and a soft smile. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I just feel bad, y’know, for—”

“Lex,” Clarke stood up, hesitating before crossing the room in a few strides, coming to a stop beside Lexa’s bed. “Honestly, it’s okay. You’ve been dealing with some serious shit this past month. No one would blame you for being angry.”

“But you don’t even know what happened.”

“True,” Clarke nodded, “But I can see that whatever it was, it’s affected you. Badly.”

Lexa’s eyebrows pulled together as she swallowed heavily.

“And this isn’t me pressuring you to talk about it,” Clarke reached out, resting her hand on Lexa’s arm, “Just letting you know that I’m here. If you want—need me.”

Clarke could’ve sworn she felt the nerves jolt through the veins in Lexa’s arm as she stroked a single line down her forearm.

“Clarke?”

“Mhmm?”

“D’you like playing Boggle?”

Clarke stepped back a little, lips twitching as a smile fought to break free. “What?”

“Boggle? Y’know, the game with the letters in the box,” – Lexa made a square shape with her hands – “And then you shake it all up,” – she shook the imaginary box, and Clarke’s laughter bubbled up to her lips – “And then you have to find as many words as you can in three minutes, and longer words get more points but you don’t get any points if you find the same word as another player.”

“You’re so fucking cute,” Clarke blurted.

“What?”

Now it was Lexa’s turn to look amused as Clarke flushed cherry–red, lips pressed together as if to keep any more embarrassing sentiments from tumbling out. “Um, I meant, Boggle sounds great.”

“Sure,” Lexa smirked.

They exchanged a grin, Lexa poking her tongue out at Clarke to which Clarke responded by blowing a raspberry at her.

“So, wanna play?”

“Boggle?”

“Yeah,” Lexa nodded, eyes now wide with excitement. “I had Jackson look in the rec room and he managed to find it, along with an almost-full pack of cards and a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos that’s missing all of the balls.”

“I guess the hippos aren’t that hungry anymore, then.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love my jokes.”

“Whatever you say, Clarke.”

The blonde chuckled, heading over to the windowsill on which the games were stacked up in a pile. She tugged Boggle out from underneath the ball-less Hippos, kicking off her shoes before joining Lexa on the bed. They sat opposite each other – Lexa’s mouth turned up in a challenging smirk, Clarke’s eyes narrowed overdramatically.

“Ready?”

“Ready to win.”

“You’re so on, Griffin.”

“Bring it, Woods.”

* * *

 

They ended up playing for hours. Lexa's competitive side paired with Clarke's tendency to be a sore winner resulted in a lot of yelling and raucous laughter, prompting Jackson to pop his head into the room a couple of times to ask them to settle down, much to Clarke's amusement.

As the afternoon wore on, their positions on the bed continued to subtly shift. First, Lexa slid a little lower down against the pillows, followed by Clarke lying on her side and propping her head up with her arm. Then Lexa shuffled down further until she was curled up with her head on the pillow, facing Clarke who was now splayed out on her stomach. An hour later and Lexa's eyes were drooping shut, flitting to the clock on her bedside table.

11:34.

“Clarke,” she mumbled, blinking slowly, “Clarke, it’s kinda late. Don’t you think you should—”

But her words were silenced when her eyes fell on a sleeping Clarke, whose nose was pressed against Lexa's leg as she snored softly. Lexa considered waking the other girl (curled up next to an invalid on a hospital bed couldn’t have been an ideal place to sleep), but she quickly felt her own eyelids growing heavy and was loathe to disturb the blonde when all she really wanted to do was sleep too. She wiggled down the bed a little, her head now propped up on the starchy pillows. Clarke let out a quiet grunt as Lexa fidgeted, before shuffling closer and wrapping her fingers around Lexa’s thigh.

Lexa’s body tensed for a moment. It’d been a long time since someone had touched her so gently, so tenderly. She focused on the feeling of Clarke’s fingertips through the extra blanket she was swathed in (kindly brought to her by Miles), savouring the subtle warmth. She could feel the way Clarke’s breath floated ever-so-softly from her slightly-parted lips, could feel how it made the fine hairs on her legs stand up. Trying not to rustle her gown too much, she adjusted herself one more time, lifting Clarke’s head a little so it was resting on her thigh instead of being smushed against it.

The feeling of having someone close, someone touch her — it was something Lexa knew would take time for her to get used to. Her heart still spiked if Clarke moved too fast when sitting near her, and a sweat would break out along her brow if she was ever touched without warning. But she was learning. Here, with Clarke, lying beside her as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if she was just a regular person, not someone who was broken and scarred, who flinched if the wind blew too loudly outside her window.

Here, she wasn’t afraid.

Here, she was just… Lexa.

* * *

 

Lexa woke to find her fingers threaded through Clarke's hair. She ran her thumb across a silky strand, enjoying the way the sunlight trickled in through the window, golden yellow dappling across soft blonde. Clarke's head was now resting on Lexa's hip, arm slung across Lexa's waist.

Lexa glanced at the clock.

7:15am.

 _“Way too early_.”

She closed her eyes, letting Clarke’s steady breathing lull her back to sleep once more.


	6. Chapter 6

A few hours passed and then it was Clarke who awoke slowly, burrowing her face into the bed as she let out a quiet yawn. She blinked the haze of sleep from her eyes, registering movement further up the bed. She looked up to see Lexa curled up into a ball by her pillows, eyes squeezed shut as her body shook.

“Lexa?”

Clarke scrambled up onto her knees, watching as Lexa's face drew tight and a shaky yelp escaped her clenched teeth.

“Lexa, wake up.”

She placed a hand on Lexa's shoulder, shaking the brunette gently. But Lexa didn’t wake. If anything, Clarke's touch seemed to make things worse, Lexa shrinking further into herself as scattered words pushed out from between her lips.

“No… stop, hurts… I don’t... where’s mom…”

Clarke's eyes roved over Lexa's shaking body, waiting for a particularly bad tremor to subside before placing her hands on Lexa's cheeks. It was a tactic her mother used to use to calm her down as a child – make the other person aware of your touch, bring them out of their thoughts, keep them grounded.

Clarke had no idea if it would work in this moment or only make things worse, but Lexa was violently shuddering now and Clarke knew she had to at least try.

Fingertips resting on Lexa's flushed cheeks, Clarke leaned forward, careful not to jog the other girl’s IV drip in the process.

“Lexa, it’s Clarke.”

Her voice was stronger now, more insistent.

“I need you to wake up, okay?”

Lexa flinched as she rolled onto her back, hands clenched against her fluttering chest.

“Lexa, come on. Wake up.”

Clarke’s touch had become a little more desperate, the pads of her fingers skimming Lexa's jaw as she tried to coax her out of her slumber.

“Lexa.”

Another whine slid from between Lexa's clenched lips.

“Lexa, please.”

Clarke glanced around for Lexa's panic button, but the cord was stretched to the floor and the device had fallen somewhere underneath the bed, too far for Clarke to reach.

“Fucking hell. Lexa, please! Just wake up!”

Then Lexa jolted awake, hands flying up to grasp at Clarke’s fingers that had slipped down to her shoulders.

“Whatthefuck.”

Clarke let out a shaky breath as Lexa gazed up at her, wide-eyed and panting a little. Their eyes both gravitated to Clarke’s fingers – that were now rubbing soothing circles onto Lexa's collarbones – then Clarke pulled her hands back, folding them into her lap as she avoided Lexa's confused stare.

“Are you okay? What just happened?”

Lexa breathed out shakily, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Nightmare.”

“Do you have those a lot?”

A nod.

“Do you… wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Clarke nibbled on her bottom lip. “Need a drink?”

“Water would be great.”

“Coming right up.”

Swinging her legs off the bed, Clarke trotted over to the small chest of drawers on which sat a water jug and a packet of plastic cups.

“Thank you,” Lexa mumbled, as Clarke handed her the drink.

“Anything else I can do?” Clarke offered, bracing herself for Lexa's usual answer of “No.”

She was certainly not expecting Lexa to gaze at her with those deep green eyes before motioning for Clarke to re–join her on the bed.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod.

Clarke cleared her throat, swallowing the sudden nerves that had bubbled up in her chest. She strode over to the bed, clambering in next to Lexa before she lost her nerve.

“So…” Clarke said, “What now?”

“Could you just… if it’s okay, I mean… would you hold me? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, it’s just been so long… I mean, no one’s really, um…”

Clarke paused for a split-second before turning to look at Lexa, whose face, usually so stoic and unreadable, was full of desperation. Lexa needed Clarke right then, needed her in order to feel some semblance of normality. And Clarke could sense that, in the way that Lexa’s fingers shook beneath the blanket and the way her eyes fixed on the lightbulb hanging above them in an attempt to hold back the tears that were brimming in them.

“Anything you want, Lex.”

She smiled gratefully as Clarke shuffled up a little, looping her arm around Lexa's shoulders. Clarke pulled her in against her chest, her breathing hitching as Clarke's fingers gently tangled in her hair. Deft fingers then trailed down Lexa's temple, Clarke's thumb stroking ever-so-gently along her jaw.

“Thank you, Clarke.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

“Is it okay if I…” Lexa mimed resting her arm across Clarke's stomach.

“Of course,” Clarke smiled.

Lexa snuggled into Clarke, immersing herself in the sound of the blonde’s heartbeat as she lay against her chest.

“Lex?”

“Mhmm?”

“When was the last time someone held you like this?”

A beat of silence.

Two beats.

Three.

“Too long ago to remember.”

Lexa's voice was so small, so hurt. Clarke’s heart broke a little.

“I’m sorry, Lex.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

“You deserve better, y’know.”

The words were out before Clarke had time to think, and she froze when she felt Lexa tense up. But then Lexa relaxed once again, bringing her left hand up to rest on Clarke’s right forearm before gently nudging Clarke's chin with her head. Clarke hesitated before bowing her head, quickly pressing her lips to Lexa's forehead for a chaste kiss.

“Did you just kiss me?”

“No. I mean, yes. Yeah, kind of.”

Lexa wriggled against Clarke, glancing up with a tiny smile on her face. “You sure know how to make a person feel better, huh?”

“I can’t say I have much experience with comforting girls in hospital beds, but I try my best.”

They shared a smile, Clarke loving how this small moment of joy made Lexa's eyes spark like fireworks raining down on a meadow in the dead of night. Then Clarke sat up a little, grabbing her laptop from her rucksack that she’d dumped on the floor.

“Fancy watching a movie? I nabbed Raven's Netflix password yesterday.”

“Sure. What’s on there at the moment?”

“Rom coms. Horrors. Shitty shark films. Pretty much anything you could want.”

Lexa pretended to think hard, pouting overdramatically while tapping her chin like a wizened professor.

“Hurry up, Einstein,” Clarke laughed, “It’s not that difficult.”

Lexa let out a giggle as she grabbed her blanket and pulled it over herself, peering at Clarke through her hair.

“You had me at shitty shark films.”

Clarke pseudo-swooned, batting her eyelashes as she fanned herself exaggeratedly. “Girl after my own heart.”

“Don’t you mean _gill a_ fter your own heart?”

“Oh my god.”

“I think this is going to be fin-tastic.”

“This was a terrible decision.”

“Come on, Clarke. We’re going to have a whale of a time.”

“I regret this already.”

“Let’s get down to fish-ness!”

“Jesus, Lexa.”

“Don’t be so crabby.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.”

Lexa held Clarke’s gaze, her mouth dry and her heartbeat drumming in her ears.

Then someone trundled past Lexa's room with a squeaky-wheeled cart and Clarke laughed and the moment was over.

(It wasn’t really over, though, since Lexa then spent the next three days obsessing over the way Clarke had looked at her).

(And Clarke wasn’t much better, spending too many hours afterwards mentally dissecting every word in an attempt to figure out what it all meant).

They spent the next minute sifting through a treasure-trove of movies, eventually deciding on Sharknado. Clarke positioned the laptop on her thighs, Lexa resting her arm across Clarke once again as she nuzzled into her.

“Comfy?” Clarke murmured.

“Yup.”

“Great.”

“White.”

Clarke frowned. “…What?”

“Great White. Like the shark? We’re watching a shark movie.”

“I am ashamed to know you.”

“Just press play,” Lexa chuckled.

The opening credits appeared on-screen, tinny music blaring out as the movie launched into its first scene. Lexa's left hand remained on Clarke's stomach, the other balled up against her chest. But it wasn’t long until Clarke slid her right hand over, fingers interlocking with Lexa's.

“Is this okay?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“More than okay.”

Then Lexa smiled up at Clarke; a smile that the blonde hadn’t seen before. It was soft. It was shy. It was… happy.

Lexa was happy.

The feeling spread through her chest, fuzzy and warm. Clarke's eyes returned to the movie, but Lexa kept hers on Clarke, mentally tracing the outline of Clarke's rosy cheeks and plump lips.

God, she was so beautiful.

A loud crash emanated from the laptop speakers and Clarke's arms tensed when she startled, pulling Lexa in more so they were pressed even closer together. Lexa tried to wiggle away a little without disturbing Clarke, but her fidgeting wasn’t as subtle as she’d hoped. Then Clarke’s head turned and their faces were close, so close. Close enough that Clarke could move her head forward ever-so-slightly and lean in and—

Lexa’s head jolted back, cheeks tinged red as she shuffled down, eyes averted. She lay her head on the pillow this time, instead of on Clarke’s shoulder, pulling her hands back and tucking them under her chin. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she tried to process what had just happened, glancing up to see Clarke looking at her with an unfamiliar look on her face.

Clarke’s mouth opened as if she was about to speak, but then she closed it and went back to watching the movie, trying to mask the hurt that tinged her eyes.

Silence stretched between them. And, as she watched Clarke purse her lips and pretend like everything was okay, Lexa’s head was a myriad of confusion and fear and anger – directed mainly at herself.

Why couldn’t she just kiss Clarke? She wasn’t even sure what the problem was – Clarke was kind, and pretty, and Lexa liked spending time with her. _Really_ liked spending time with her, in fact.

But she was scared.

Scared of how vulnerable Clarke made her feel, like she was freefalling and didn’t know if her parachute was ever going to open.

She glanced up, catching Clarke watching her thoughtfully.

“Everything okay?”

Lexa nodded, shooting Clarke a small smile.

“Enjoying the terribly–animated shark fest?”

“Duh.”

“Good, because there are three sequels.”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re in for a long night, Woods.”

“As long as you’re here, I’m sure I’ll survive,” Lexa said, catching her tongue between her teeth before she blurted out anything else.

But her words seemed to have a positive effect: Clarke grinned as she gently pulled Lexa to her once again. They watched the rest of the movie in comfortable silence, the air punctuated with clunky dialogue and a variety of chainsaw sound effects.

They were interrupted halfway through the second movie, Abby poking her head into the room with a small wave. She checked over Lexa before ordering Clarke to go home and get some proper rest, promising that she could return the next day. Clarke begrudgingly agreed, taking Lexa's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze before she left. Abby watched the exchange curiously, but kept her thoughts to herself, knowing that Clarke would talk to her about it when she was ready.

Then Clarke left the hospital with a spring in her step (which seemed like a pretty big oxymoron considering the building and the circumstances which led people to be admitted there) but she’d just had an amazing evening with the girl she liked – despite some minor dramatic interludes – and honestly, she was just too giddy to care.

* * *

 

Lexa was ready to be discharged four days later. Her rib was healing well, most of the swelling had gone down, and her bruises had faded to a dull green. Abby ran a few more tests over the days leading up to her release from the hospital, monitoring her brain and keeping an eye out for any signs of damage from the concussion, but there was nothing to be found.

She was free to leave. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of being cooped up in that room, she was well enough to return to the outside world.

She expected to feel nervous.

Or relieved.

Or maybe even excited.

But honestly?

She was utterly fucking terrified.


	7. Chapter 7

“Got everything?” Clarke grunted, heaving a lumpy duffel bag onto the hospital bed.

“Think so,” Lexa nodded, eyeing Clarke amusedly. “What the hell have you got in there?”

“All the clothes I brought for you to wear while you were here. I didn’t realise they’d make you wear that gown the whole time.”

“Aw, but it looked so great on me.”

“So flattering.”

“Really brought out my elbows.”

“Definitely.”

“You girls all packed up?” Abby interjected, Jackson a few paces behind as they entered the room.

“Yup.”

“Yes.”

They made their way out into the corridor, Lexa's eyes momentarily flicking back to the room that had become somewhat of a sanctuary during her time in the hospital. Then she followed Clarke and Abby out into the foyer, stopping at the reception desk to make sure they had all her details for future check-ups. Lexa squinted as they walked out to the car park, the morning’s golden sun a welcome relief after being bedridden for so long.

“Hey, Lexa?”

“Hmm?”

“Where, um… do you have anywhere to go, now?”

Lexa looked at Clarke, eyebrows furrowed. “Not really, no.”

Abby came to stand beside Clarke. “No relatives you can stay with for a while?”

“Nope. My parents don’t have any siblings. And my grandparents died when I was young.”

“Oh, honey,” Abby murmured.

“Uh, could you just give us a minute, Lex?” Clarke smiled, a little too brightly.

“Sure.”

Clarke gestured for Abby to follow her across the parking lot until they were out of earshot.

“Mom.”

“I know.”

“We have to, right?”

“Of course, we do. I’m not sending that poor girl out on the streets, and I certainly don’t expect her to go back to her home.”

“I still don’t know what happened to her there, mom.”

“I’m sure she’ll tell you when she’s ready.”

“But she can stay with us?”

Abby nodded, smiling as Clarke's face lit up.

“Lexa! Hey, I have great news.”

Abby chuckled as Clarke raced back to the car, babbling to Lexa for a few seconds before the brunette flung her arms around Clarke (wincing a little as her rib throbbed) but she held on, the happiness seeping through her bones outweighing any pain she was feeling.

“Hey,” Abby joined them with a smile, placing her hand on Lexa's elbow, “There’s something we need to do first, though.”

Clarke frowned at her mother. Lexa nodded resignedly, having already anticipated this.

“I have to go home.”

Clarke's head whipped round, eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I have to go home before we—”

“No, I heard you. I just don’t understand why?” Clarke turned to look beseechingly at Abby. “She’s over eighteen, mom. There’s nothing stopping her from just leaving, right?”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Then why—”

“I have to talk to my mother.”

Clarke paused. “You’ve never mentioned your mom before.”

“There’s not much to say,” Lexa replied dryly. “But I have to see her. I need to know what happened after I… the day I came to the hospital, the second time.”

A loaded silence sat between them.

Clarke, again, wanting to ask what had happened.

Lexa, again, feeling her walls go up as Clarke shuffled closer to her with imploring eyes.

“It’s the right thing to do, Clarke,” Abby said.

“But what if you get hurt again?” Clarke's voice was laced with worry.

“I won’t.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

“Because I’ll have you with me.”

The way Lexa spoke, so sure, so certain that Clarke would be there to look out for her. It made Clarke's heart clench in a beautifully painful way.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Lexa gave Clarke a tiny smile, following her into the back of the car while Abby shoved Lexa's bags into the passenger seat.

“Besides,” Lexa continued, “I need to get my clothes and stuff.”

“You can always borrow mine.”

“Nah, that’s okay.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

Lexa replied with a raised eyebrow and a wry grin, giggling as Clarke's mouth fell open.

“Well, I never.”

“I’m just kidding, Clarke.”

Abby glanced up from the GPS and met Lexa's eyes in the rear-view mirror, exchanging a bemused smile.

“I do need my stuff, though. My laptop, money… and my hamster.”

Clarke spun in her seat. “You have a hamster?!”

“Sure do. His name’s Ham.”

“Ham… the hamster?”

“Don’t judge me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence for the rest of the journey, the girls taking it in turns to subtly glance at each other (well, it was about as subtle as a punch to the face, but neither of them really minded). Then the GPS announced their arrival, and Lexa’s whole demeanour changed as her eyes came to rest on the shabby two–storey house they’d pulled up outside.

“Shit.”

Clarke reached over and took Lexa's hand, her thumb stroking over her knuckles. “I’m right here, Lex.”

Lexa's brain screamed at her as she stepped out of the car, urging her to turn back. But she pushed her fear aside, letting Clarke keep hold of her hand as they began to walk. The pathway felt spongy under Lexa's feet, like at any moment the ground could crumble and swallow her up. But the cement stayed intact, leading them up the steps to the rickety front porch. A termite–ridden door stood before them, the rusty door knocker leaving a greasy residue on Clarke's hand as she tapped it against the door panel. No answer.

“I have a key.”

Clarke stepped aside to allow Lexa to open the door. It swung into a dark hallway that stretched deep into the house. They were greeted by dense silence as they crossed the threshold, as if the house was holding its breath, waiting for a spark to set things ablaze.

Clarke watched Lexa, waiting for her to speak. But her mouth just hung open, no sound coming out.

“Hello?” Clarke called.

Nothing.

“Mrs Woods? Is anybody ho—”

Noise erupted from a room to their right, the clattering of empty plastic echoing amidst stumbling footsteps and incoherent mumbling. Lexa turned, ready to bolt out of the house at the first sign of Sam.

“Lexa?”

It was her mother’s voice.

“Lexa, jesus fuck.”

Cindy Woods emerged into the murky hall light. She had tousled brown hair (the same shade as Lexa's), squinty mouse eyes, and a hooked nose that made her look permanently displeased. Her ratty dressing gown hung off her thin frame, toes poking out the front of well-worn slippers.

The tension in the air sat on Lexa's chest. Her mother just stared at her, glassy–eyed.

“You, um, you must be Lexa’s mom?” Clarke spoke softly, as if talking loudly would cause the spindly house to come crashing down around them.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Clarke.”

“So?”

“I’m a friend of Lexa's.”

She regarded Clarke with a bored sigh, eyes sliding back onto Lexa who was refusing to look up from the floor. She had wrapped her arms around her torso, shaky breaths passing across her lips.

“What, you’re not even gonna look at me?”

There was a harshness in her tone, an edge that had Clarke inching closer to Lexa.

“Lexa, for god’s sa—”

“We need to talk, mother.”

Cindy raised her eyebrows. “You think? You disappear for weeks with no warning, I come home to Sam bleeding on the floor, screaming about you attacking him with a fucking knife—damn right, we need to talk.”

“D’you want me to leave?” Clarke murmured.

“No, just… wait out here,” Lexa said, before going into the living room after her mother.

The house was exactly as she remembered it – dank, musty, everything covered with a layer of dust. Even the couch seemed to wheeze as they perched on it, Cindy kicking empty pill bottles out of the way.

“Still self–medicating, huh?”

“Don’t start that shit with me, Lexa.”

Her mother lit a cigarette, taking a long drag before looking at her daughter.

“So?”

“So…”

“So what the fuck happened, Lexa? Where did you go? And what the hell did you do to Sam?”

“I did what needed to be done.”

“I saw what state you left him in. He could’ve died!” Cindy sat up to readjust her bra.

“Unbelievable,” Lexa murmured.

“What?”

“You really don’t care about me at all, do you?”

Cindy tried her best to look offended. “I am your mother. Of course I care.”

“Stop lying.”

Her mother blanched, cheeks reddening. “I’m not.”

Lexa snorted at the pseudo–concern in her mother’s voice. “You never cared. Not like a parent should.”

Cindy began fiddling with her sleeve.

“You knew. You knew what he was doing to me… and you didn’t stop him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The response was quick, automatic.

But Lexa caught the flash of guilt in Cindy’s eyes. She shuffled further along the sofa, putting more space between their bodies. “Where is he?”

“Gone.”

“Gone where?”

“Back to his parents’. To recover.”

“I hope he never does.”

“Lexa, don’t—”

“No, mother,” Lexa stood, finally letting out all the anger she’d held inside for so many years. “ _You_ don’t. You let this person, this man, come into our home. And you let him _hurt_ me. You watched as your own child, your _daughter_ , was terrorised by this man, and you did nothing. _Nothing._ ”

Lexa leaned forward, teeth bared as she stared into Cindy’s watery eyes.

“I bet he has a huge dick, right?”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Bet you’d lie there at night, getting off on the sounds of him throwing me against my bedroom wall before he’d come in and fuck you.”

Her mother choked back a sob, head bowed in shame.

“You’re nothing but a selfish junkie, _Cindy_. You’re a disgrace.”

And with that, Lexa walked out, heading straight upstairs to grab her stuff. Clarke quickly followed, ears ringing from what she’d just overheard.

“Lex, I had no idea—”

“Just help me. I need to get out of here.”

Together they shoved Lexa's belongings (there wasn’t much) into a couple of black bags, Clarke dragging them down the stairs while Lexa carefully carried Ham’s cage out to the car. The air was punctuated with the sound of Cindy’s crying, but Lexa blocked it out. When they had everything packed, Clarke took Lexa's hands, a grim smile on her face.

“All done?”

“Yep.”

“Do you wanna…” Clarke gestured back to the house.

“I have nothing else to say to her.”

“Do you girls need help with anything?” Abby called through the open car window.

“No thanks, mom.”

They got back into the car, Abby turning in her seat. “Lexa, are you alri—”

“Can we just go, please?”

Lexa had curled in to herself, head burrowed into her knees. Clarke moved over to the middle seat, grabbing a blanket from the floor and wrapping it around Lexa's trembling shoulders.

“Of course,” Abby said.

Clarke glanced back at the house as they pulled out of the driveway. She registered the twitch of a curtain in one of the downstairs windows; saw one lifeless eye watching them, fingers pressed against the grimy pane.

The grey sky above them thundered as they drove, rolling clouds peppering the inky dusk. Clarke wrapped her arms around Lexa, knowing that this was only the beginning of whatever lay ahead.

Lexa had survived the lightning strike – now, she had to weather the rest of the storm.

* * *

 

The car came to a slow halt and Lexa stirred, nuzzling her face into Clarke's arm with a sleepy “hmmphh.” The blonde chuckled, poking Lexa's cheek, to which the brunette responded by attempting to blow a raspberry.

“Wakey wakey. We’re at my house.”

Peeking out of the window, Lexa saw a squat white house on the corner of the street. The windows were framed with wooden slats, painted a pale blue, and the garden was speckled with pastel flowers and cheery gnomes.

“That’s your house?”

Clarke nodded.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. My dad designed it.”

Lexa sat back with raised eyebrows, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Really?”

“Mhmm. He loved stuff like that.”

“I wish I could’ve met him,” Lexa spoke softly.

“He would’ve loved you.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely.”

Lexa turned away again, this time to hide the deep pink blush that had bloomed across her cheeks like petals.

“Girls, come on!” Abby called, waving from the doorway.

Grabbing the bags and Ham’s cage, they trundled up to the house. Lexa was blown away by how intricate everything was – from the tiny bridge set up across a miniature pond, to the stunning wooden swing that sat in the middle of a luscious patch of grass. Clarke led her upstairs right away to unpack, to the small guest bedroom that sat at the end of the carpeted hallway.

“So, this’ll be your room,” she smiled, placing Lexa's things on the bed. “You can put Ham there,” she pointed to the plain chest of drawers that sat beneath the window, “and I know it’s not much, but—”

“It’s perfect.”

Clarke beamed as Lexa drank everything in, eyes full of gratitude and joy.

“Glad you like it.”

They were interrupted by frantic rustling and a tiny pink nose poking out from the bars of the cage.

“Ham! Hey, buddy.”

Lexa unlocked the cage door and reached in, bringing out a tiny black and white Dwarf hamster.

“Oh my god, he’s adorable,” Clarke said.

“You can hold him, if you like.”

The next few minutes were made up of Clarke cooing at Ham while Lexa put her clothes away, enjoying the sounds of Clarke's happy squeals and Ham’s contented squeaking. Once she was done, she shyly asked for a house tour. Clarke was more than happy to oblige, turning it into a cheesy Cribs–style demonstration.

“Here we have the master bedroom, that contains not one, not two, not even three… but FOUR pillows on the bed. I know, it’s crazy. Next to that is the bathroom, which, get this… has a bath with a BUILT–IN shower attachment. This is too much, y’all.”

Lexa laughed as she tagged along, eagerly awaiting Clarke's room. It felt like a big deal, for some reason, and Clarke seemed to feel it too, hesitating with her hand on the door before pushing it open.

“Yeah, so, this is my room.”

She dropped the TV presenter bravado, eyeing Lexa somewhat nervously. The brunette took her time looking around, wanting to take everything in: the fairy lights, the art work adorning the walls, the giant bisexual flag that hung above the bed.

“This is a great room.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I might have to steal it from you.”

“I might be open to sharing.” The words fell out before Clarke could catch them and she inhaled sharply. “Sorry. That was weird. Ignore me.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Well, I was just about to say that I wouldn’t mind sharing with you at all.”

And with that the awkwardness dissipated, Clarke smiling shyly while Lexa continued perusing her room. Soon they were called down for lunch, Abby setting the table with a set of intricately–patterned china plates.

“So Lexa gets the fancy cutlery but I don’t?”

“Lexa isn’t the one who can break a glass just by looking at it.”

“Come on, mom, that was one time.”

Lexa frowned at Clarke, who shrugged. “I was trying to be Matilda.”

“Turns out she’s not magically gifted,” Abby added, “Just very clumsy.”

Clarke picked up a plate and mimed dropping it – much to Abby’s horror – but then food was being served and the air was filled with mouth–watering aromas.

“This is amazing, Abby. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Dinner was a quiet affair, Clarke and Abby carrying most of the conversation while Lexa just ate and listened. She watched how they interacted; Abby listening to Clarke talk about her day, Clarke poking fun at Abby with undeniable love in her eyes.

Lexa's heart ached for a moment as she pined for the family she’d never had. But then, looking at the people sitting around that table with her, and the way they cared for her even though she hadn’t known them for that long… she thought that maybe, by some miracle, she had been given another chance. A chance for a real family.


	8. Chapter 8

It took Lexa a while to settle in to living at the Griffin’s.

It wasn’t a bad kind of adjustment – just something she’d never truly experienced before.

She wasn’t used to Abby’s unexpected kindness, be it bringing her a cup of tea in the morning or wrapping a blanket around her when she dozed off on the sofa. She wasn’t used to the way Clarke handled her so delicately and with so much care, the blonde often checking in with Lexa to make sure she was doing okay, even when they were doing something as minor as eating dinner. She wasn’t used to the warmth, the safety she felt when she was with them.

Healing wouldn’t happen overnight, she knew that. But she was hoping that someday she’d stop flinching at the slam of a door, or wouldn’t instinctively tense up at the sound of heavy footsteps.

This wasn’t an easy place to get to, though. The first few months of Lexa's stay were tainted by nightmares. Nightly she’d wake, drenched in sweat, chest quivering as she struggled to breathe through the terror. She tried to be quiet, the first few times it happened. But she couldn’t always control herself and one night found herself screaming, half–asleep and scrabbling at the duvet as if it was trying to smother her.

Clarke came rushing in to the room, eyes wide with panic.

“Lexa? Lex, oh god—mom! I need help!”

Together Clarke and Abby had soothed Lexa, Abby waking her gently while Clarke held her trembling body. She sobbed violently in Clarke's arms, occasional apologetic whispers slipping across her lips. When she eventually calmed down, Clarke suggested that she should sleep on Lexa’s floor for the night, just in case it happened again. A bubble of relief grew in Lexa's chest and she nodded gratefully, Abby grabbing a sleeping bag and a pillow for Clarke.

Despite their intentions of it being a one–off occurrence, Lexa's panic attacks happened almost every night – so Clarke took up permanent residence on her bedroom floor.

“I’m in here basically every night anyway,” she reasoned, shooting Lexa a smile. “Might as well sleep in here.”

“Clarke, you don’t have to—”

“Well, I’m going to.”

Lexa heard the fierce protectiveness in Clarke's voice. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sounded so loving when talking about her. It made her heart quake and throb and she had to fight to stop herself from bursting into tears.

Some nights were more fun, though. They’d sit side–by–side on Lexa's bed, Clarke's laptop perched across their knees. Often they’d watch movies, taking it in turns to choose – this led to an extremely varied list, ranging from Lexa's choice of The Perks of Being a Wallflower to Clarke's pick of Lemonade Mouth.

“It’s a great movie, okay.”

“I’m not arguing with you there.”

“Plus all the girls in the band are, like, super gay for each other.”

“You can’t just say that everyone is gay, Clarke.”

“I can when it’s true.”

Sometimes Lexa would shuffle over a little until their bodies were pressed together, Clarke letting her get comfortable before leaning her head on Lexa's shoulder. These nights tended to be okay, Lexa only waking for a second before dropping back to sleep.

But other nights were painful. Memories flashed through Lexa's subconscious, and she’d curl into a ball, choking on words that she couldn’t get out. She’d scratch at the wall until her fingernails bled, trying to escape from whatever nightmare she was stuck in. And often she’d speak, whispers quickly transforming into screams as she rocked back and forth. Her eyes would crack open but the fear lingered as she wept.

Then Clarke would spring up from the floor and scramble onto the bed, cradling Lexa and whispering calming words into her ear until Lexa would feel peace flooding her body. The fear never fully went away, not really. But, with Clarke holding her and promising that she was safe, Lexa was finally in a place where she felt like she was no longer drowning; now it was as if she was floating up to the surface of the water she’d been imprisoned under for so long, and awaiting her was the warmth of the sun and the gentle song of birds soaring through the sky.

* * *

 

Eventually, things started to settle into some sort of routine for Lexa and her new family. Clarke went to her art classes during the day, always placing a steaming hot cup of tea on Lexa's bedside table before leaving the house. Abby was up early every day for her job at the hospital, always making sure the fruit bowl was full before heading out (bananas for Clarke, kiwis for Lexa). And Lexa spent the time healing, allowing herself to finally learn what _home_ was meant to feel like.

She’d read Clarke's books, go for walks, play with Ham – and eventually, Abby found her a lovely therapist named Georgina, who she saw three times a week. Sometimes she’d cook dinner for Abby and Clarke, much to their delight. Lexa herself was surprised to discover that she was a pretty excellent chef.

She also developed a love for drawing, which she tried to hide from Clarke because it was mortifying to have her art looked at by, well, an artist. But forgetfulness and an easily–distracted mind led to Lexa leaving one of her paintings out one day. Clarke caught sight of it, tracing the chalk streaks and deep colours that seemed to ooze off the canvas. Then, after a moment of pensive contemplation, she launched into the most enthusiastic review Lexa had ever seen, complimenting the colour balance and the sturdiness of the lines and the way the art resonated with her.

Lexa didn’t stop smiling for the rest of that afternoon.

When she wasn’t sketching or hamster–sitting or attending her sessions with Georgina, Lexa took to keeping a journal. Not regularly, or for any particular project; she’d simply sit and let her fingers talk, sometimes writing for hours, other times for mere minutes, depending on what mood she was in.

And Clarke quickly began to pick up on Lexa’s body language. Curled up on her bed with the journal wedged between her arm and her chest meant quiet time, while lounging on the sofa with the journal lazily propped up on her knees was an invitation for a chat.

Lexa loved that Clarke took the time to get to know her like that, and she took it upon herself to do the same for Clarke. She began jotting things down: little notes at first, like how many sugars Clarke took in her tea and how she didn’t like fresh tomatoes but she’d happily devour an entire bottle of tomato ketchup.

(“They taste entirely different, I swear!” Clarke would protest).

But a few scribbles became languid sentences and suddenly Lexa found herself writing about the way Clarke's eyes pinched at the corners when she laughed, and how she’d linger in Lexa's doorway for a second before leaving for class, and the way her blonde hair didn’t reflect sunlight but instead seemed to absorb it, shining in a way that Lexa knew made her rich even though she didn’t have much money.

Clarke, with her kind eyes and gentle soul and a smile that could light up the darkest of rooms. Lexa often found herself doodling those blue eyes, in the margins of her journal and on the newspaper while playing Sudoku. She’d write about Clarke, and she’d think about Clarke, and she’d watch movies with Clarke while sharing a bottle of cheap wine, and she’d wonder how the fuck she was supposed to not fall for her.

How was she supposed to not fall in love with the person who’d saved her life and showed her what it truly meant to be loved?

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Lex? Lexa, you up?”

Lexa groaned, the piercing sunlight somehow filtering through her duvet. She scrunched her eyes shut, groaning again for dramatic effect.

“Oh, stop that.”

Lexa felt something land on her head with a thump.

“Hurhhh!”

“Good morning to you, too.”

She peeked out from under the blanket, finding Clarke leaning against the doorframe with a smirk on her freshly–washed face.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

“Nope,” Lexa mumbled, burying her face in her pillow. “D’nt want to.”

“Sorry, it’s not optional,” Clarke laughed, striding in and yanking the duvet off the bed.

“Claaaaaaaarke.”

“Don’t “Claaaaarke” me. You agreed to this, remember?”

“Hmphhh.”

“In _fact_ , I distinctly remember you _suggesting_ this.”

“A decision I’m now regretting.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. You’ll be fine once you’ve had some coffee.”

“Tea, please.”

“Fine then, tea,” Clarke chuckled. “But if you’re not out of bed by the time the kettle’s boiled then I’m just gonna drink it all myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

After a few more seconds of grumbling, Lexa hoisted herself to her feet with a moan.

“Much better. See you downstairs!”

“It’s wrong that a person can be so cheerful in the morning!” Lexa called, as Clarke descended the stairs.

“Just plain wrong,” she mumbled again, staggering into the bathroom with one eye still shut.

As she brushed her teeth, nerves for the coming day began to set in. She’d been living with the Griffins for six months now, and had yet to meet any of Clarke's friends. Clarke told her it was because they were all really busy, but Lexa figured it was Clarke's way of giving her time to settle before being thrown into social situations. She made a mental note to buy Clarke some flowers as a thank you for being so thoughtful.

Lexa had suggested the meeting a few weeks prior, after her four–month milestone with Georgina. She was a kind, twenty–something woman, who always listened and never made Lexa feel small or unimportant. While at first, she had dreaded her bi–weekly sessions, soon Lexa began to look forward to them. There was something refreshing about baring her soul to someone who was basically a stranger, and having them listen to her stories without bias or judgment. Soon after, she began to make progress, working through some of the issues that had stemmed from living under Sam’s roof for so long.

That’s not to say that Lexa was fixed; far from it, to tell the truth. There were still nights when she woke in a sweat, eyes swivelling in their sockets as she ground her teeth and screamed at demons only she could see. But these nights happened less now, overtaken by nights of knitting with Abby and cuddling up in Clarke's bed as they read side–by–side.

(Nothing happened during these literary sleepovers, although there were a few times when Lexa would wake to find Clarke's arm slung over her stomach, Clarke's nose pressed in between Lexa's shoulder blades. On these occasions, her stomach would swoop and her mouth would grow dry and she’d force herself to wriggle out of the bed and watch TV downstairs until Clarke woke up. It seemed like the right thing to do.)

But now that she was in a more positive headspace and was leaving the house more and even looking for jobs she could apply to, she’d decided that meeting Clarke's friends was an important step and it was something she wanted to do, much to Clarke's delight.

“Tea’s ready!”

Lexa scampered back to her room, shoving on her clothes before scraping her hair back into a messy bun. She grabbed her shoes and flung them ahead of her down the stairs before following suit.

“What the hell was that?” Clarke came racing into the hallway. “Okay, do you _have_ to throw your shoes down the stairs every morning, Lex? You’re gonna give me a damn heart attack one day, I swear.”

“Sorry, Clarke,” Lexa mumbled. “It’s just that…”

Clarke prompted her with a nod. Lexa steadied herself with the banister, taking a deep breath before blurting out: “I used to have to get ready super quickly to make Sam his breakfast and if I wasn’t ready on time then he’d hit me and scream and stuff and so I used to throw my shoes down the stairs so he’d think I was already coming down the stairs and then he’d stay in his chair and not see me running late.”

While Clarke had semi–adjusted to Lexa and how her past affected her, it still didn’t prepare her for moments like this. Moments when Lexa curled in on herself, terrified and tiny and broken. Clarke's heart twisted in her chest and she rushed to the bottom of the stairs where Lexa was sat, putting her arms around her.

“You can throw your shoes wherever you want in this house,” she said, cradling Lexa's head against her chest.

“I think I just have to break the stair habit, but thanks.”

Clarke could hear the small smile in Lexa's voice.

“I’m proud of you for telling me that, Lex.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Abby then poked her head round the living room door.

“Everything okay out here?”

“Yeah, mom.”

“Lexa?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Okay,” Abby smiled, gazing at the girls for a moment longer before returning to whatever show she was watching.

“She really loves you,” Lexa spoke softly.

“Not just me,” Clarke replied, watching the way Lexa's face unwound as the words sunk in.

“Feels nice.”

They sat for a moment, Lexa still safe in Clarke's arms.

“Don’t you two have somewhere to be?” Abby called.

“Crap, we’re late!” Clarke jumped up, knocking off Lexa's glasses in the process.

“Again, Clarke?!”

“Sorry, but we gotta go!”

“You’re buying me a new pair if you break these…” Lexa grumbled, grabbing the fallen spectacles before tugging on her shoes.

“Yeah, yeah. You say that every week.”

“Because you almost break them every week!”

“The important word here being _almost._ ”

“Have I ever told you how irritating you can be?”

“Constantly.”

“Good, just checking.”

Clarke winked at Lexa, tugging open the front door with a flourish.

“Got everything?”

Lexa held up the crate of beers that had been sitting beside the stairs.

“Perfect.”

“Are you sure that’s all we need to take?”

“Positive. Raven and Octavia are total alcohol hoarders, they could open a bar in that house if they wanted to.”

“Ha, okay.”

They sauntered out into the morning sunshine, Clarke glancing at Lexa with a grin before racing over to the car.

“I call shotgun!”

“Clarke, you’re driving us there…”

* * *

 

They arrived half an hour later, Lexa's nerves now showing in her furrowed brow and clenched jaw. She tugged at her lacy blouse, fingers travelling down to pick at a loose thread on her jeans.

“Hey,” Clarke spoke softly, watching Lexa while unbuckling her seatbelt. “This is all on your terms, okay? Anytime you need a break, or if you want to leave, tell me and we’ll go.”

Lexa let out a soft sigh. “I don’t want to ruin your time with your friends.”

“Today is about you, Lex. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

Her heart clenched as she heard the promise in Clarke's voice. “Okay. Let’s go.”

They walked up the short path to the front door, Clarke rapping three times on the varnished wood with her knuckles. A few seconds passed, and then:

“CLAAAAAAARKE!”

The blonde was attacked by a bundle of limbs and black hair, quickly followed by another (slightly slower) bundle that added tattoos and the squeak of metal into the mix.

“Octavia! Raven!” Clarke grinned, staggering under the weight of her two best friends.

“I can’t believe you abandoned us for so long!”

“We haven’t seen you in years!”

“Stop exaggerating.”

“Felt like years,” Raven grumbled, detaching herself from the group hug.

“Raven's sulking because she’s missed you,” spoke a voice from the hallway.

“Bellamy!”

“Get in here, you.”

Clarke raced through the open doorway, flinging herself at Bellamy before doing the same to Murphy, who greeted her with a smile and a hair ruffle.

“Looking good, Griff.”

“Back at ya, Murph.”

Lexa dwindled just outside the front door, scraping her shoe against the concrete.

“Clarke…” Raven motioned to Lexa with a raise of her eyebrows.

“Lex, why are you still out there? Come in!”

“Oh, I—sorry, yeah,” Lexa mumbled, smiling timidly at the group.

“I see Clarke’s still as bossy as ever,” murmured Octavia, guiding Lexa into the hall with a smile. “Come in. Everyone else is outside already.”

Bellamy led them all through the house – Lexa spotted a large leather couch and a small tiled kitchen and a room that looked like a mix between an office and a laboratory – and was greeted by a cheer as they spilled out into the small garden.

Clarke went through the rest of her hellos with Jasper and Monty and a couple of other people, before facing the group with a smile.

“So, everyone… this is Lexa.”

All eyes on her, Lexa stood awkwardly, wrapping her thick cardigan securely around herself.

“Now I see why you didn’t want to leave the hospital. Damn.”

“Jasper!”

“What?!”

“Sorry about him,” Raven rolled her eyes as she made eye contact with Lexa. “He’s a pig.”

“Oh no, it’s—it’s okay…”

“You’re too nice. That’ll change once you hang out with us a little more.”

That made Lexa smile.

“Hey, look at that! She can smile,” Bellamy grinned, handing Lexa a beer.

“Oh, thanks, but I don’t, uh—”

“She doesn’t drink, Bell,” Clarke spoke carefully, levelling him with a pointed look.

“Oh, shit. Right. Sorry.”

Lexa watched him place the beer back in the cooler, his ears quickly reddening.

“Hey, Bellamy?”

He looked up at her.

“I’ll, um, I’ll take one of those juice boxes, though?”

“Sure thing,” he said, relief evident in his voice. “Flavour?”

“Surprise me.”

“You got it.”

Clarke silently watched the whole exchange, warmth blooming in her chest as she saw her friends accepting Lexa so readily. Not that she had much to worry about; she’d come to realise that disliking Lexa was pretty much impossible (although maybe she was a little predisposed).

Lexa took the juice from Bellamy with a smile, sneaking a glance at Clarke who was sporting the biggest grin. They were then led a little further into the garden, Monty gesturing for Lexa to take the empty plastic chair next to him. She did so quietly, nerves still humming across her skin as he and Jasper pulled her into their conversation.

“I’m just saying, there’s _no_ way Kimberly's into Trini.”

“Come _on,_ Jasper.”

“What?!”

“You’re just saying that because you want to date her,” Octavia chipped in.

“Um, no?”

“Umm, yes?”

“She’s fictional, O.”

“I can’t see that stopping you.”

“I have _some_ standards, y’know.”

“Do you, though?”

“Lexa,” Jasper turned to her, eyes beseeching. “Help me out here, would ya?”

“Um,” she quickly swallowed her mouthful of juice. “Sure?”

“You’ve seen the new Power Rangers movie, right?”

She answered with a nod, removing her cardigan as the sun’s rays began warming her back.

“Okay, so Kimberly and Trini?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think they’re—”

“Super gay for each other? Oh, totally,” Lexa grinned, winking at Monty as Jasper slumped backwards with a dramatic groan.

“Why are the hot girls always gay?” he grumbled.

“I’m definitely not complaining about that,” Clarke interjected, sauntering over to rest her hand lightly on Lexa's shoulder.

Lexa couldn’t supress a shudder as Clarke's fingers burnt a trail across her exposed skin.

“Are you okay?” Monty asked.

“I, uh—yeah, fine,” Lexa mumbled, peeking up at Clarke who was watching her with a wry smile.

The conversation continued – Jasper growing more and more frustrated as each of his girl crushes were shot down by Lexa and Octavia's apparently flawless gaydar – and Clarke wandered back up to the house, finding Raven pottering around in the kitchen.

“…know it’s in here somewhere, damn it – hey, Clarke – I only bought it yesterday so I don’t—ha!”

She stepped back from the fridge, clutching a small tub in her hands like a trophy.

“Hummus?” Clarke chuckled.

“Wouldn’t be a party without it, right?”

“Damn right.”

Raven smiled at Clarke as she continued her kitchen raid, grabbing more condiments from the cupboards that lined the upper half of the room.

“So.”

“So?”

Raven stared at Clarke pointedly. “ _So_ … what the hell is going on with you and Lexa?”

Clarke suddenly became very interested in tidying up the few plates that were in the sink, turning away from Raven with an indecipherable mumble of words.

“Nu uh.”

Raven grabbed Clarke by the waist, spinning her around.

“We are not doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“You do not get to disappear on us for months and then return with a hot girl who won’t leave your side and act like nothing happened.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, Ray.”

“You wanna talk about dramatic? Clarke, you saved this girl from getting her ass kicked before you even knew her name, you practically moved into the hospital for her, and now she’s living with you in your home and y’all look at each other like one of you is starving and the other is the last cheese and pickle sandwich left on Earth.”

“Cheese and pickle is gross.”

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“I don’t even know what you want me to say!”

Raven huffed exaggeratedly. “Just, like, what’s up with you two? Are you dating, or…”

“No,” Clarke smiled, a little ruefully. “Not dating.”

“But… you like her, right?”

Clarke exhaled deeply. “Yes,” she spoke softly, “I like her.”

“See, now, was that so hard?” Raven winked.

“Didn’t get us anywhere though, did it?”

Raven frowned. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that’s actually a pretty big understatement because I like her a _lot,_ and all this time we’ve been spending together has been amazing and it all feels so… _right,_ and I don’t want to risk ruining things by admitting that I lov—that I like her,” Clarke muttered, a deep pink covering her cheeks in seconds.

“Nice save,” Raven smirked.

“Shut up.”

“Had a little slip, eh, Griff?”

“Don’t get all Freudian on me.”

“Aww, but you know how much I like talking about daddy kinks.”

“Actually I do. Makes me wonder why I’m friends with such a weirdo.”

“Maybe because you’re a weirdo too.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Raven grinned as she began piling the condiments onto a tray. “So, what did you two get up to while she was in the hospital?”

“Nothing like _that_ ,” Clarke said, shaking her head as Raven wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “We just, y’know… played board games. Watched terrible sci-fi movies. Talked a lot. Normal stuff.”

“That is really fucking gay.”

“Says the woman carrying…” Clarke's eyes flicked over the tray, now in Raven's arms, “Three different types of hummus.”

“I resent that stereotype.”

“And yet, you fit it so well.”

Their shared laughter was interrupted by a voice calling them from outside.

“…better get out here soon before Jasper starts crying!”

“Oh god,” Clarke laughed, grabbing another crate of beers from the fridge before following Raven back out into the garden.

The rest of the afternoon was filled with light conversation and plentiful laughter. Clarke's heart thrummed as she watched Lexa, hypnotised when the setting sun danced in her eyes; gold flecks floating amidst a lush green forest. Then the night arrived and wrapped them in its black cloak, until they were squinting to see each other across the dying embers of the fire they’d been sitting around.

A few minutes of chatter later and somehow a jokey suggestion made by Bellamy quickly became a serious idea. They all found themselves huddled on the floor in the living room, an empty bottle lying in the middle of their circle.

“Are we really doing this?” Octavia said dryly.

“’Fraid so,” Bellamy grinned, shooting a conspiratory wink at Murphy.

“I love Spin the Bottle,” Jasper giggled, through hazy alcohol-eyes.

“Clarke,” Lexa leaned over to murmur in the blonde’s ear, “I’ve, um… I’ve never played this before.”

“Just when I thought you couldn’t get any cuter,” Clarke said, before she could stop herself.

Lexa's ears tinged pink and Clarke's mouth clamped shut. Raven, watching this encounter slyly from the other side of Clarke, leaned over to talk to Lexa.

“It’s pretty simple. You spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on has to choose Truth or Dare.”

“Hold on,” Clarke interrupted. “Since when was Truth or Dare a part of Spin the Bottle?”

“Since we decided that too many of us are in relationships for this to just be a kissing game.”

“Fair point.”

“That doesn’t mean kissing is ruled out,” Jasper interjected, eyes flitting to Lexa for a split second. “Not if some of the people are single.”

“Jasper, you are actually vile,” Octavia deadpanned.

He sat back, hurt flashing in his eyes. “I was only joking.”

“Well, sometimes your jokes suck.”

“I didn’t mean to—Lexa, I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Lexa spoke quickly, with a timid smile. “But, um… Jasper, you know that I’m gay, right?”

Jasper choked on his drink. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he gawked at Lexa, eyes flicking between her and Clarke.

“You’re—right, yeah. That makes sense, I guess…”

“What does that mean?” Clarke said, a little too much edge in her voice.

“Nothing, nothing, I just…” Jasper swallowed around a mouthful of rum. “I just noticed how—”

“Okay, Jas, that’s enough booze for you,” Raven cut him off, snatching his cup before he could protest. “And enough time-wasting for the rest of us. I wanna play this damn game!”

The air was filled with cheers of agreement, the tension quickly dissolving as Bellamy reached in and gave the bottle its first spin.

Things went smoothly, for a while.

Octavia’s first Truth was admitting that she had in fact lied to Raven about needing someone to tutor her for Physics when they were at school together.

“I wanted an excuse to spend time with you.”

“You could’ve just asked me out, y’know.”

“I was shy, I guess.”

“Baaaaabe,” Raven grinned, drunkenly crawling across the floor to pepper Octavia’s face with kisses. “I love youuuuuu.”

“I love you too,” Octavia smiled, pulling Raven closer before taking her turn to spin.

Next up was Monty: dared to eat a spoonful of whatever concoction they made him. He accepted his dare like a champ, although seemed to regret it five minutes later when choking down a spoonful of horseradish, wasabi, toothpaste, peanut butter, and Skittles (all of which had been doused with a generous glug of vodka).

The game continued on like this for a while, with relatively benign tasks and truths being doled out. But then Murphy jokingly dared Jasper to take his shirt off (which he did), and this was followed by Jasper daring Octavia to do the same (which she did), and then any inhibitory walls they had up came crashing down as the alcohol seeped into their brains. Fuzzy–eyed and loose–tongued, things intensified quickly – and then Raven (who had started drinking before any of the guests had even arrived and who had, at this point, consumed two bottles of wine and several shots of tequila) pointed a shaky finger at Clarke (who had just picked Dare) and slurred out the words:

“I dare—hic!—dare you t’kiss Lexa.”

An unsteady hush fell over the room.

Lexa, one of the only two people in the room who weren’t drunk, felt her stomach plummet. She turned to Clarke slowly – and found the blonde staring at her, blue eyes flashing between confused and scared and excited. Then panic surged through Lexa's veins and she stood abruptly, knocking into the coffee table in her haste to leave the room. Her feet carried her out into the hallway and up the stairs, and she burst into the bathroom, locking the door behind her before flicking on the light. Hands shaking, she perched on the closed toilet lid. And strained her ears to see if she could catch any of what was unfolding downstairs…

“…can’t believe you said that.”

“S’only a joke, Clarke,” Raven mumbled, slumping against Octavia.

“Wasn’t funny, Ray.”

“Clarke, I’m sure Raven didn’t—”

“Bellamy, don’t.”

The rest of the group remained silent, eyes downcast. Clarke staggered to her feet – “Fuck, I’m so not sober” – before stumbling towards the doorway, clumping up the stairs, and coming to a breathless halt outside the bathroom door.

“Lexaaa,” she mumbled, leaning against the door. “Lex, it’s me. Open the door.”

A few seconds passed and then the sliver of light on the carpet grew as the door opened a crack.

“S’just me,” Clarke smiled, shuffling into the room and shutting the door behind her.

Lexa moved to sit on the edge of the bath. Clarke did a little lurch forward a few moments later and joined her, leaving a bit of space between them.

“M’sorry about Raven,” Clarke spoke quietly, trying not to sway as she sat with her hands gripping the lip of the bath.

“It’s okay,” Lexa all but whispered.

“She shouldn’t have—”

“Clarke, really. It’s okay.”

Lexa angled her body towards Clarke, finally meeting her gaze.

“I’m not angry about what Raven said.”

“Then why,” Clarke squinted, the words floating lazily across her brain, “Why did you, um,” she gestured to the bathroom around them as her tongue sat uselessly in her rum–soaked mouth.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

Clarke pushed through the drunken haze to grasp at what Lexa was saying.

“You’ve—never? No kisses?”

Lexa shook her head.

“I wasn’t interested. Well, not until I realised I wanted to kiss girls, but that wasn’t an option, not with Sam around.”

Clarke took Lexa's hand, Lexa tensing for a moment before tangling their fingers together.

“I think it’s cool that you haven’t kissed anyone.”

Lexa wrinkled her nose. “You do?”

“Mhmm,” Clarke nodded simply. “You didn’t just throw your first kiss away.”

Lexa felt as though Clarke wanted to end that sentence with “like I did”, but didn’t want to push it. Not when Clarke was being so sincere and open and… what was that look in her eyes?

“Clarke, I…”

Lexa's skin tingled as Clarke began trailing her fingers up and down Lexa's arm.

“I want—I mean, I’d like to—shit, Clarke, how do I do this… um, okay, it’s just—” Lexa glanced at Clarke, who had slumped back and was now lying in the tub, legs poking over the rim. “This kissing stuff, I just… I wanted to wait for the right person, and now, I feel like I might have found that person, so—”

A loud snore interrupted Lexa's rushed speech. She looked back at Clarke again and found her sound asleep, head resting back on the tiled wall.

“Great,” Lexa muttered, wiping away the tears that had sprung at the corners of her eyes.

“Hey, Lexa…” Octavia's quiet voice floated in from the hallway.

Lexa jumped up and opened the door, trying to hide her watery eyes from Octavia's concerned ones.

“Is everything oka—oh jeez, she’s done it again,” Octavia sighed, turning and cupping her hands around her mouth like a megaphone. “Bell, Murph, help please!”

The boys came rushing in, worry turning to amusement as they spotted Clarke in the bathtub.

“I see you’ve met Party Clarke,” Murphy chuckled.

He and Bellamy stood on either side of the tub, hooking their hands under each of Clarke's arms and hoisting her into a weak standing position. She grumbled lowly, eyes half-closed as her head lolled to one side.

“Lexa, do you know how to get back to Clarke's from here?”

“Kind of, but we, uh, she has GPS, in her car. I can drive.”

“Great. Murph, I’m gonna go with them and help Lexa with Clarke.”

“You want me to follow you in our car?”

“You didn’t drink anything tonight, right?”

Murphy shook his head.

“Then yeah, follow us so you can take me home after.”

“No problem, babe.”

Bellamy leaned over to brush a kiss to Murphy’s cheek. Murphy ducked his head, trying to hide his coy smile. Then they began the arduous task of getting Clarke down the stairs and into the car – meanwhile, Jasper and Monty had begun a very off–key rendition of Don’t Stop Believin’ in the living room, much to everyone else’s annoyance – but eventually they did it, Clarke buckled securely into the front seat with a large bottle of water and a plastic bag on her lap (“j’st in case,” Raven had said, thrusting the bag into Lexa's hands before throwing herself onto the sofa). Lexa bid everyone a quiet goodbye, surprised when Octavia stepped forward to pull her into a hug.

“It was so nice meeting you,” Octavia smiled.

“You too,” Lexa swallowed, mirroring Octavia with a small smile of her own.

“And I’m sorry about Raven…”

“Really, it’s okay. Thank you both for having me,” Lexa nodded, opening the driver’s side door and folding herself into the car.

“Oh, Lexa?”

She paused, the door still half–open. “Mhmm?”

“If it’s any consolation, I know for a fact that Raven's gonna have one bitch of a hangover tomorrow.”

They shared a quiet laugh at that, Octavia waving as Lexa pulled the door shut and turned the key in the ignition. Luckily the roads were deserted at that time and they made it back to Clarke's in record time, Bellamy tumbling out of the back seat to help Lexa guide Clarke to her room.

“Thanks for helping,” Lexa panted, after they’d removed Clarke's shoes and tucked her into bed.

“No problem,” said Bellamy. “You should probably stay in here tonight, though. Keep an eye on her.”

He left Lexa with a quick pat on the shoulder – “Great to finally meet you. Hope to see you around soon.” – and shuffled down the stairs and out to the car in which Murphy awaited.

Then Lexa was alone, standing in murky darkness as Clarke's deep breaths swirled around the room. She lingered by the door for a moment, swallowing down any residual anxiety – she’d talk to Clarke tomorrow about what had happened at the party – before stripping off her clothes and slipping on one of Clarke's oversized t–shirts. Careful not to disturb the sleeping girl, Lexa slowly got into the bed, keeping an eye on Clarke as she took a little of the duvet for herself. Backs pressed together, it soon grew warm under the thick blanket. Lexa flung her arm out over the duvet, relishing the cool air against her skin. She felt movement behind her, and then a hand – Clarke's hand – was sliding across the small space between their bodies, fingers gently knocking against Lexa's.

Lexa's breath hitched. She turned her head, eyes finding Clarke still turned the other way.

“Clarke? Are you okay?”

The whisper snuck across the bed. Clarke stirred, turning to lie on her back. Her fingers tiptoed across Lexa's palm, their hands now joined between their bodies.

Lexa's heart was pummelling against her ribcage. She stayed as still as possible, afraid to move in case she broke whatever was happening.

“Lexaaa…” Clarke mumbled, rolling over and pressing her face into Lexa's shoulder.

Again, Lexa tensed – but Clarke quickly fell quiet once more, snuggling into Lexa with a contented sigh.

They fell asleep like that: holding hands, Clarke's warm breath trickling through Lexa’s thin t–shirt as she quietly snored against Lexa's arm.

And Lexa felt warm, and safe. And loved.

Fuck.


	10. Chapter 10

“Hnggggg.”

Lexa woke slowly, registering the grumbles that were coming from her left. She cracked one eye open and turned her head, coming face–to–face with a very dishevelled Clarke.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“Fuck,” Clarke groaned, burying her face further into Lexa's shoulder.

“How’s your head?”

“Feels like it’s full of rocks,” Clarke mumbled.

“I’m not surprised. I think you drank your body weight in rum last night.”

“Hmm. S’your fault though.”

“Mine?” Lexa propped herself up on her elbows. “How so?”

“You let me drink.”

“I _let_ you? I’m not your mother, Clarke.”

The blonde let out another grumble, burrowing back under the duvet.

“I need food,” she said, voice muffled. “And juice. Lots of juice.”

“We can do that.”

“Don’t wanna move though.”

Lexa rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Would you like me to bring you some breakfast?”

Blue eyes peeked out above the duvet. “You, Lexa Woods, are a saint.”

“I know.”

Lexa slid out of bed, grabbing a pair of shorts before heading into the bathroom. A quick pee and teeth–brush later, and she was heading downstairs, calling a quiet “good morning” to Abby while passing the living room and going into the kitchen.

She rooted around in the fridge, ending up with a two small cartons of orange juice and a tray piled high with croissants, jam, and a banana, which she took upstairs and placed on Clarke's bed with a flourish. The blonde finally sat up, looking slightly less dead now that food was involved. Reaching for a croissant, she began to nibble one end, watching Lexa with a look on her face that was hard to decipher.

“You slept in here last night.”

Lexa sipped on her juice, attempting an air of nonchalance. “Mhmm.”

“You’ve never slept in here before.”

“Well, I also have my own room to sleep in, so…”

“Lexa.”

“What?”

Clarke was poised with a response, but seemed to change her mind at the last second. “Please tell me I don’t snore?”

Relief flooded Lexa's face.

“Like a grizzly bear.”

“Damn it.”

They laughed around mouthfuls of jam, and Clarke found herself reaching over to wipe a raspberry smudge off the corner of Lexa's mouth.

Lexa froze as Clarke's thumb swiped across her lip.

Then Clarke seemed to realise what she was doing, eyes widening as she pulled her hand back like she’d been electrocuted. “I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s—” Lexa took a deep breath before reaching over and taking Clarke's hand in her own. “It’s okay.”

They sat like that for a few seconds: Lexa cradling Clarke's hand in her lap, Clarke's eyes roving across Lexa's face for some clue about what the fuck was going on.

Both girls were trying to hide the way their hearts were fluttering in their chests.

Then Lexa let go, grabbing the banana and distracting herself with the task of opening it. Clarke seemed lost in contemplation, eyes glazed over as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Lexa was mid–bite when Clarke piped up: “I haven’t forgotten what you told me.”

Lexa swallowed heavily, wiping her lip despite there being no food to wipe away.

“I remember, um, in the bathroom, when you said that you’ve never—”

“We don’t have to talk about this.”

Clarke looked a little affronted. “What if I _want_ to talk about it?”

A self–deprecating laugh pushed out from between Lexa's lips. “Why would you want that?”

Those words, words tinged with disbelief and insecurity and shame, seemed to unlock something within Clarke.

“Because, _Lexa,_ ” she pushed herself up onto her knees, jostling the tray of half-eaten food, “It’s been months of these… these _feelings_ and _touches_ and, _god_ , the way you look at me sometimes… y’know, there are times when you look at me and it feels like you’re looking into my fucking soul.”

Lexa curled her legs up against her chest, stunned silent as Clarke continued.

“And yes, I’ve really enjoyed having you living with me. And I love it when you wear my clothes and cook me dinner and show me your paintings. And last night when I… when I thought we might kiss... maybe it was one of the scariest and most exciting moments to ever happen in my life. But I wanted it to happen.”

Clarke let out a shaky sigh, raking her hands through her hair.

“I love how I feel when I’m around you, Lexa. And I know this might be confusing and scary and honestly I’m just worried about pushing you away by admitting all of this, but fuck. I’m just… I’m so _happy_ whenever I’m with you.”

She paused, sucking in a breath.

“And I think you’re happy with me, too.”

Lexa couldn’t do anything but sit for a moment, staring at Clarke with wide eyes and a pounding heart. Clarke stayed quiet, watching Lexa apprehensively. Then…

“I just can’t believe you… I mean, no one’s ever…” Lexa waved a hand between them. “This is all so new to me, Clarke.”

“What is?”

“Not being terrified all the time. Feeling safe. And… like I have a home. A family.”

Clarke's eyes softened. “You’ll always have a home here. My mom loves you, and I love having you around—”

“It’s not just that.”

“Then… what is it?”

Lexa shuffled under the duvet a little. “Y’know. Other feelings. And stuff.”

A small smile tugged at Clarke's mouth. “I’m gonna need a bit more than that, Lex.”

“I mean, my… my feelings… for you.”

The words came out in a quiet murmur. Clarke's eyebrows raised as she stared at Lexa, who took a deep breath before her next words tumbled out into the space between them.

“I have feelings for you, Clarke. I have done for a while now. And last night… last night, I really wanted to kiss you, okay?”

Clarke inhaled sharply.

“I wanted to kiss you and hold you and tell you how much I… But then the game happened and everyone was staring and… it was too much.”

She began fiddling with the drawstring of her shorts.

“Everyone was having such a good time, drinking and laughing so easily. It just reminded me of how screwed up I still am. I don’t want to put that on you.”

“Lexa, you know that’s not fair to yourself considering all you’ve been through—”

“You deserve better than me.”

Lexa's voice was quiet, now. Quiet and shaky and so unsure. Then Clarke crawled across the bed and put her arms around her, and Lexa relaxed against Clarke's chest and soothed herself with the sound of Clarke's heartbeat.

“I deserve someone who makes me happy,” she whispered, breath brushing across Lexa's forehead. “And last time I checked, that person was you.”

Pushing back a little, Lexa met Clarke's earnest gaze.

“Are you sure?”

Clarke let out a soft laugh. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Lexa blinked slowly, disbelief still clouding her eyes.

“I like being with you, Lexa. I like watching stupid movies with you and fighting over the last piece of popcorn. I like our late–night trips to the beach, and I like the way your nose crinkles when you laugh at my awful jokes.”

Lexa had to duck her head to hide the aforementioned crinkle, as her smile grew more with each of Clarke's words.

“And I know it won’t always be easy. I know you’ve got shit to work through; I do, too. But, god, it’s so much better with you. You make it better.”

“You make it better for me, too,” Lexa said, warmth flowing through her when Clarke smiled at her. “You’ve helped more than I can say. Waking up and knowing you’re there, even on the bad nights…”

“And I love you.”

Lexa's mouth snapped shut and her eyes locked with Clarke's. “You—what?”

The brunette looked like a baby deer trapped in the wake of an oncoming car, and Clarke wasn’t sure if she herself was going to burst into delirious laughter or hysterical tears. She decided on a happy medium, a few tears trickling down her cheeks as she smiled at Lexa.

“You heard me, Woods.”

Lexa sat, unmoving. Blood thundered in her ears. Sparks zapped through her veins.

And Clarke… Clarke just sat there, waiting for Lexa. Patient, kind, understanding Clarke. Always there for her, no matter what. Always there to make Lexa smile, no matter how crap Lexa was feeling or how bad the nightmares were. She was always there.

That was when Lexa realised that she wasn’t afraid anymore. She wasn’t afraid of the way she felt when she was with Clarke – because how could she be afraid when Clarke made everything feel so _good_?

Another heartbeat… and then Lexa surged forwards, pressing her lips against Clarke's. The blonde stiffened, just for a moment – she wanted to be sure Lexa wasn’t going to change her mind and pull away – and then she was kissing her too.

Clarke was kissing Lexa and Lexa was kissing Clarke, and suddenly it was like the world had been sprinkled with pop rocks and glitter and neon glow sticks. Colours and music burst behind their eyelids as Lexa's heart thrummed like hummingbird wings and Clarke's shaking hands moved up to cup Lexa's face.

Clarke's thumb stroked Lexa's cheek and felt wetness there. She pulled her head back, taking in Lexa's tear–streaked skin.

“Oh, Lex,” she whispered, lying back on the bed and pulling Lexa to her chest.

Lexa fell into Clarke's embrace and they wrapped themselves up in each other, the rest of the world fading away as Clarke's fingers trailed down Lexa's jaw. They stayed that way for a while, silent except for Lexa's unsteady breathing against Clarke's chest and the gentle chirping of birds filtering in from the open window.

Then Lexa brought her hand up, carefully turning Clarke's face towards her.

“I—,” she shut her eyes, forcing herself to breathe despite the nerves tightening beneath her skin. “You’re my favourite person in the world, Clarke. You know that, right?”

Clarke's face lit up. “I’m starting to, yeah.”

“And…” Lexa sat up, pushing her hair out of her face with a determined breath, “I love you. Too. I love you too.”

“I’ve imagined you saying that to me so many times, but _god_ ,” Clarke sat up as well, kissing Lexa again, “Hearing you actually say it...”

“I know. Me too.”

They kissed and kissed and kissed some more – all gentle lips and jam sweetness – and Lexa felt something loosen in her chest; something once sharp and brittle that was now transforming into something soft and gentle and warm.

But she knew things wouldn’t magically get better overnight just because she and Clarke had finally been honest with each other.

She knew that, even with Clarke – and this new relationship, whatever that may be – things were still going to be rough and ugly, and she was still going to have bad days and bad nights and bad in–betweens.

But maybe, just maybe, she was getting stronger. Maybe she was learning that she deserved to love and be loved. And maybe, just maybe, she could find happiness – not just with Clarke, but with herself too. Maybe the pain inside her would continue to grow duller, as her smile sharpened and her eyes dropped the fear they’d been holding onto for so long. Maybe she could live that life she’d always dreamed of: a life full of laughter and warmth (and, as Clarke later showed her, one that also included trips to animal sanctuaries and loud garden parties and quiet bookshops tucked into hidden alleyways).

Lexa wasn’t fixed. But neither was she entirely broken. Her pieces were starting to fit back together, little by little. And one of those pieces, she found, was a girl with eyes like the sea, who helped Lexa float even when it felt like she was being dragged under by the waves.

Clarke was her lifeboat, and Lexa was finally allowing herself to be helped aboard.

Lexa didn’t want to drown anymore.

She wanted to swim.


End file.
